Hunter, Born and Bred
by Unsung and Forgotten
Summary: Royce once promised Isabelle he'd find them a way home… but nine months later, he's holding his infant daughter, tears staining his cheeks. He's determined to protect her no matter what but things take an interesting turn when the Yautja learn there's an Ooman pup on the loose.
1. Prologue

**Rating** : M for violence/gore, strong language, adult themes and more. Read at your own discretion.

 **Summary** : Royce once promised Isabelle he'd find them a way home… but nine months later, he's holding his infant daughter, tears staining his cheeks. He's determined to protect her no matter what but things take an interesting turn when the Yautja learn there's an Ooman pup on the loose.

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own the Predators/Aliens universe, all rights belong to Fox and all the respective parties. (If I owned anything, the new 2018 Predator movie would be radically different)

 **Additional Notes** : While, I am mainly following the _Predators_ movie (and the other AVP movies) for this fic, I am keeping the comics in mind as well. However, the comic concerning Royce and the four-armed Yautja isn't going to be followed and instead, I'm making up my own plot (so for all intents and purposes, that particular comic never/hasn't happened yet).

Also, keep in mind this story is unbetaed and while I preview and edit everything to the best of my abilities, I cannot possibly account for everything. This is also my first fanfic, so go easy on me! :)

* * *

In the ruins of the Predator camp, sat two lonely and forlorn figures side by side.

The man, covered in grime and grit, held a woman securely to his chest as if he was afraid she'd disappear at any moment. The woman, wounded and exhausted, was slumped against him; her almond brown eyes dim and unresponsive.

Yet an ominous rumble in the distance caught both human's attention and the man slowly raised his head to glare up at the sky.

Rising with his companion, he took note of the parachutes floating down from the sky, his eyes dark with enmity. While scanning the horizon, his companion, who clasped her wound tightly, was counting the number of parachutes with a growing tendril of hope. To her, the new arrivals meant new possibilities and possibilities meant a bigger chance of escape.

The man however only eyed the newcomers with caution and hostility. The eleven parachutes merely meant more trouble to him and he already had one liability clinging to him; he didn't need anymore meddling and potentially compromising walking and talking problems. Still, as he had learned, bigger numbers were useful for _somethings_.

Mind made up, he drew the woman closer and felt his resolve strengthen. '' Now...,'' he began, his companion glancing up at him,'' Let's get off this fucking planet.''

Thus the two battle weary and bedraggled humans trudged into the thick jungle undergrowth; their shadows growing with every step.

* * *

 **Seven Months Later...**

'' On your six!''

Royce spun around just in time to intercept a huge and ferocious beast lunging from the bushes. Dodging the beast's snapping jaws, he whirled around gun spitting bullets as he tracked the beast all the way to the forest floor. Blood gushed from the bullet wounds as the alien hound roared in both pain and fury.

He had already killed six of these things this morning and this last one was getting on his nerves. It seemed to be the alpha of the latest pack dumped on Hell, as he and the others had begun to call the planet they were stuck on.

This alpha was the largest of the horned hounds that he'd fought and was taking more bullets that he cared to shell out. Conserving ammo was always high on his priority list and this thing was pissing him off to a fine degree.

Shaking itself, the beast crept towards him intent on mauling Royce despite its grievous wounds. Scowling, Royce dropped his SMG and unclipped his Bowie knife, raising it defensively in front of him.

Considering his new choice of weapon, the hound carefully inched forward, favoring caution now rather than wild savagery.

 _Smart son of a bitch_ , the former black ops soldier mused grimly as he and the hellhound circled each other.

Tossing its head impatiently, the beast finally lept at him, claws poised to rip into him but Royce was faster. Sidestepping quickly past the hurdling beast, he swung his knife down in an elegant arch, slicing through the rough hide of the beast, neatly decapitating it.

A breath of relief escaped him as he wiped his knife off on his pant leg and crouched to examine the hound.

Suddenly, a shrill whistle of admiration cut through the air and Royce's face instinctively twisted into a hostile snarl. Spinning around, he punched the whistling moron in the face. '' Again, I have to tell you to shut up,'' he growled quietly, focusing on one of the newest editions to the group.

In the back of his mind, he knew he shouldn't be so harsh. Isabelle wouldn't approve but then again, she hardly approved of anything he did as of late.

'' I'm sorry, s-sir... I just- that was so cool and I-I-'' Royce wanted to punch the kid again. Did he ever shut up?!

The ''kid'' was named Romnie Newburgh and he had claimed to be serving in the Queen's Guard before getting snatched by their glorified keepers. Whether that audacious claim was true or not remained to be seen as Royce had yet to see in any real meddle in the boy.

All he saw was a freckled Irish kid with a brilliant shock of ginger hair and a mouth big enough to fit his motherland in. And he was utterly useless in terms of survival to boot.

'' Look kid, I don't care if you see fucking Superman out here... you keep your damn trap shut, understand?'' Royce warned him with a seething glare that promised an ass-whopping if the kid did otherwise.

Nodding hastily with a muffled,'' Yes, sir'' Royce rolled his eyes and turned back around.

'' Good, now go get two of the other hounds and we'll start back,'' Royce ordered sternly before beginning the arduous task of dressing the dead alpha beast at his feet.

Since he had yet to find another way off Hell, Royce had begun to adapt to his new lifestyle. First came finding a new hideout and then finding a way to keep him, Isabelle and every other newcomer fed and healthy.

Thankfully, the hellhounds the Predators released every cycle provided ample prey and occasionally fish were caught from the local streams and rivers. The new recruits that were brought in never had any rations on them so teaching them how to hunt the hounds had been a demanding task.

And keeping the Predators off their scent was another problem altogether. The hunters were smart and were constantly trying to track and hunt them. Which is why Royce's current hideout was located several long miles away from their usual hunting grounds. After several failed camps later, he had finally found the one place the Predators were reluctant to go.

The Mountains.

As it seemed, the almost indestructible and resilient species hated the cold. And although they had the advantage of thermal vision, they seemed to avoid the alps in which Royce had made a home in.

However, despite the protection the ice and sleet offered against the normally dauntless hunters, the mountains were, of course, a hazard to humans as well. Keeping warm was always a challenge and Royce had seen many in his group slip and fall to their deaths from the icy slopes, lose fingers and toes to frostbite and catch their deaths from vicious colds.

However, it was currently the only deterrent against the Predators that Royce had found. So it would have to do for now.

Loading up a sled full of dressed hound carcasses, Royce and Romnie prepared to head back.

Since the sleds provided their hunters a well-marked trail to follow, Royce and Romnie were forced to take detour after detour and carry the meat most of the time. Sleds were positioned strategically a half mile apart and were only to be used if absolutely necessary.

While walking with several pounds of meat tied across their backs made just about anyone exhausted, Royce had long since gotten used to it. He found it to be good exercise which kept his physique in top condition and of course, a good way to get all newcomers into top shape as well.

Most of the new drops consisted of overly beefed up and testosterone-fueled jackasses that couldn't outwit a Predator if their life depended on it... which it did. And after learning his lesson several times, Royce had resolved to leave most of the newcomers alone until they proved to be worth the trouble of saving and dragging back to his hideout.

Unlike Noland, he didn't lure the recruits back to his hideout just to sell them out; Royce simply helped them if he saw potential. Someone with hunting skills, someone that could construct traps, someone with medical training... the list went on.

The kid behind him, however, had been one of Isabelle's recruits.

Despite Royce's orders, she had strayed from the safety of the mountains to gather edible roots and plants and had nearly gotten herself killed. He'd been about to send a group out looking for her when Romnie showed up supporting the limping sniper.

Apparently, the Irish kid had shot down a Predator as it was just about to kill Isabelle who had been cornered. There was no proof aside from the kid and Isabelle's word and at the time Isabelle's word had been enough for him to accept the ginger into his group.

But now... he was seriously considering abandoning Romnie somewhere where he knew the kid wouldn't come back from. The boy was obnoxiously loud, had no survival skills to speak of and had pissed off half his men on his first week with them. And just a couple of cycles ago, he had gotten bitten by a hound for underestimating it.

And Isabelle insisted Royce babysit him.

 _Just my fucking luck_ , Royce thought irritably as he cast a look back to check up on the kid. The ginger was trailing glumly behind him but seemed to be watching his footing and keeping silent like Royce had ordered.

Snorting, Royce turned his attention back to the journey ahead.

It had been a challenge but Royce had found a suitable place in the alps to settle down. A series of linked caves had been located along a steep and perilous shelf which had provided a breaker from the howling wind and shelter.

Getting there was a feat in itself but after making the journey for months, Royce considered himself mountaineer material now.

'' Boss!'' came the sudden call from the blizzard that surrounded them.

Royce halted, scanning the thick snow for shapes before making out three human-sized shadows making their way towards him.

Waving at them, Royce waited until the three caught up with them and was pleased to find three of his best hunters with packs full of meat slung over their shoulders.

'' Huntings been good today,'' came the casual greeting from Todd Thomas, a retired Navy Seal who acted more or less like everyone's father-figure. Royce would have made the old man his second but unfortunately, he couldn't trust him to make the necessary sacrifices if the group ever became compromised. The man reminded him too much of Nikolai and look where the Russian's selfless behavior had gotten him...

'' No sign of those scaley bastards either,'' chimed Saveli, a Ukrainian Black ops soldier, a man Royce trusted about as far as he could throw him. Nonetheless, the shifty man had established himself as an asset to the group and an excellent hunter. Royce just didn't trust the way he acted; quick to flatter and obey orders but sneaking around when no one was watching.

'' I see the rookie's still alive,'' Todd commented with a nod of acknowledgment in Romnie's direction. The said Irishman perked up at the brief recognition and Royce suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. The kid was far too attached to the Seal for anyone's good health.

'' Boss, we met French team on hunt and they said they go inland, not listen to your orders,'' came the annoyed and heavily accented voice of Hashim who was, as usual, glaring at everyone. While he spoke little English and refused to tell them his background story, everyone suspected Al-Qaeda origins. However, the Middle-Eastern had made himself useful and so far, trustworthy. Aside from Royce, Carter and Romnie, he was one of the only guys in his group that had taken down a Predator on his own. And Royce had actually seen this takedown too.

'' Yeah, the damn French bastard even shot at his own team when they tried to ditch him,'' Saveli stated with a dark scowl and Royce was internally grateful the black ops soldier hated Mark as much as he did.

Mark, ever the proud French officer, had made himself a problem from day one and was currently competing with Romnie for the position of most problematic.

'' I'll get Carter positioned on the bridge to dispatch him if he makes it back, can't have this shit anymore. He's gonna lead the hunters straight here one of these days,'' Royce grunted as the rest of his men nodded in agreement.

Only Todd looked put off by Royce's blatant apathy but he didn't care. He knew the old man cared for every one of his men but that was why Carter was second in command and he wasn't. It wasn't a matter of skill but who Royce could trust to get shit done.

'' Come on, we need to get back before dusk,'' Royce added and a collective '' Yes, sir'' arose from the group.

An hour later, the five of them had finally arrived back home with their goods and the sentries congratulated them on their successful hunts.

A twenty-four-hour rotating guard had been set up to monitor the narrow shelf and hidden scouts had been positioned on ridges with rifles and flares. Every man and woman was armed to the teeth and Royce made sure each one was willing to give their life to keep their home safe and undiscovered. However, if someone got compromised, the soldier was to lead the Predator away from the camp at all costs. Never were you to return if followed or chased by a hunter until you had killed your pursuer or were 100% sure you eluded them. Even then you were to wait several days before attempting the journey back home.

Of course, there had been the desperate few that had attempted it despite his instruction and that's why Carter was around.

The merc was one of the only reasons the Predators hadn't discovered their current abode yet. And while people like Isabelle and Todd disapproved of Carter's actions, Royce found the sniper invaluable despite his grey morals. They couldn't take any chances and Carter understood that.

And speaking of him, the Hispanic man came to greet them at the entrance, nodding respectfully to Royce.

While his men ventured further into the caves, Royce hung back with Carter, a much-needed discussion brewing.

'' Mark's group went further inland than whats safe and I'm worried about the lack of Predator activity. Their up to something and that French motherfucker is gonna lead them straight here,'' Royce explained quietly, so the sentries couldn't overhear his words.

Carter simply nodded, as he shifted his .50 cal rifle on his shoulder. '' Sí, señor. Hay algo mas?''

Royce shook his head and said,'' After the last team, Mark's aside, comes back, no one else goes out. Same as usual.''

With another nod from his second, Royce left him to his orders.

When word got around to Isabelle about Mark's team's elimination, she'd probably give him one of those infamous disappointed looks of hers and forgo speaking to him for weeks. She never did forgive him for Kelly's death...

Shaking his head, he refused to think about that particular event and instead focused himself on checking up on everybody.

Every single person here had a purpose. Whether it was to cook, guard, hunt or create; everyone had a job they were expected to perform to the best of their abilities.

Even cripples or the those that had sustained injuries that prevented hunting or fighting, had a purpose. They could use their hands or keep guard. There was no wastefulness or incompetence... except in Romnie and Mark's cases. Though Romnie still had a chance to prove himself.

The busiest and most secure part of the caves was nicknamed the Davenport. It was the largest section of the cave, ranging about 1.44 million square feet with that towered 260 feet from the ceiling to the ground. It made a perfect gathering place for everyone and it was where everyone slept, ate and trained. It housed close to thirty men and women from around the world and Royce was in charge of every single one of them.

The Predators, however intelligent the massive aliens were, seemed not to mind the amassing number of humans. They still kidnapped all sorts of dangerous folk from each of the seven continents and dumped them on their hellish hunting reserve. And through the months, he had gathered quite a following with Isabelle's help.

While he hadn't been here for years like Noland, he had already made this place and its people his own and put every effort into making it the perfect place to call home. While Davenport couldn't beat a nice and comfy picket fence house in the 'burbs or the typical American dream home, it was comfortable enough to where Royce was 90% certain everyone else was as attached to this place as he was.

He hadn't meant to get attached to the caves and for the first few months on Hell, he had tried telling himself that it was only temporary. They'd eventually find their way off this god-forgotten planet and go home, back to Earth.

And then Isabelle had sprung life-changing news on him and he'd been forced to consider long-term plans instead.

To be honest, he should have seen this coming but in his defense, he'd been too busy evading the Predators and trying to keep everyone alive to notice. And it wasn't like he and Isabelle had been very careful about it either. After all, on Hell... any moment could have been their last.

Of course, that was the general excuse for most crimes on Hell. As it seemed, some idiots got in there head that just because they were on Death's doorstep, killing fellow humans, raping them and stealing their shit was suddenly okay. So after a shit-ton of transgressions, Royce had assembled Davenport together and stressed that if someone felt the need to blacken their karma, they do so knowing that if caught, Carter would throw them off the shelf.

Isabelle had argued that he should just kick transgressors out but Royce had argued back that the criminals were potential liabilities and couldn't be trusted not to lead the Predators back to them out of sheer stupidity or revenge. So the message was spread that if you broke the rules, you were thrown off a two-thousand-foot drop. It kept everyone in line to a certain degree but Royce still had to install sentries to help keep all the under-the-table crap to a minimum.

 _And thank God, those scaley assholes don't let anyone drop down with drugs and shit or this whole place would be high as a fucking kite_ , he thought, grateful towards the Predators for _something_.

Just then a round of high-pitched feminine shouting caught his attention and Royce had to suppress a groan. Seems someone had provoked her wrath yet again but in Isabelle's defense, in her condition, anything was liable to set her off.

'' How many times do I have to tell you to keep your mouth shut and follow orders, you imbecile!'' Came the shrill and irritant screech of his wife as he made his way to the source of the commotion.

Isabelle had cornered Romnie in the bunk area and was brandishing a grass-stuffed pillow at him, dressed in a long hide dress.

 _Well this is a surprise_ , Royce thought with a small smirk as he hung back and watched the sniper chew the young Irishman out.

Though Royce would never tell Isabelle to her face, he found her little tirades cute at times, especially since she was normally a level-headed person. While she hated how emotional she had become and cursed her condition to the moons and back, they were both aptly awaiting her due date.

Yet Royce wasn't sure about having a mini-him and Isabelle running around and being wholly liable for the upbringing of it. Isabelle, however, felt confident he was up to the task. While he didn't know what she saw in him in the ways of parental skills, it was encouraging to know she had faith in him even if he didn't himself.

And speaking of problems, he'd better rescue Romnie from the red-faced woman or he'd have a moping Irish kid on his hands the next day.

'' Belle,'' he called softly, watching the dark-haired woman spin around at the mention of her nickname,'' Why don't you leave the chewing out to me, kay?''

Isabelle just frowned at him and slung the pillow on a straw bed with an annoyed huff. '' Fine but I'm not done with him by a long shot,'' she snapped peevishly as she rounded on the hapless ginger once more,'' If you ever in danger my husband again, I'll skin your freckled hide! Got it?!''

Raising an eyebrow at her apparent concern over him, he waved Romnie off, who promptly booked it, and walked over to his seething wife.

Wrapping his arms around her and gently cupping he belly with his hands, he buried his face in her long brown hair with a tired sigh.

Almost instantly, Isabelle relaxed in his arms and let out a small noise of contentment. '' I was worried about you today.''

'' Why?''

'' I've been talking with Todd lately,'' Royce couldn't help but mentally sigh at that,'' and he was mentioning we haven't seen a Predator in weeks now. While they are still releasing hellhounds and new recruits come in every cycle, I can't help but get a bad feeling about all of this.''

Letting out a real sigh this time, Royce turned her face him. '' I've already doubled the watch as much as I can and stressed more caution to every party that goes out. There's nothing else we can do but wait, Isabelle,'' he told her softly as she laid her head against his chest.

'' I know but if we're going to raise a child in a place like this, I'd sleep better knowing there wasn't some monster just waiting to yank their tiny little spine out the minute they step foot out of the caves.'' _Well,_ _there's no getting that horrible picture out of my head now_ , Royce thought, subtly flinching at the mental image Isabelle had just painted.

'' Belle...,'' he began, already planning what he'd say next,'' The kids gonna be surrounded by the toughest and most lethal folk from Earth. He or she is as safe as their gonna be... and their not gonna be helpless either.''

Isabelle looked up at that, her brow furrowing in consideration to his words.

Continuing, Royce explained,'' We're gonna train them. They'll learn how to hunt and survive from the best. They'll be the best of us and I'm gonna make sure every time they step out of the cave, the only blood they come back covered in... is that of their enemies.''

A small smile spread across the brunet's face and she laughed quietly. '' A hunter, born and bred, huh?''

Royce nodded, his hold on Isabelle tightening as he hugged her as close as her bulging tummy would allow.

'' A hunter, born and bred.''


	2. Chapter 1

**Rating** : M for violence/gore, strong language, adult themes and more. Read at your own discretion.

 **Summary** : Royce once promised Isabelle he'd find them a way home… but nine months later, he's holding his infant daughter, tears staining his cheeks. He's determined to protect her no matter what but things take an interesting turn when the Yautja learn there's an Ooman pup on the loose.

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own the Predators/Aliens universe, all rights belong to Fox and all the respective parties. Also, keep in mind this story is unbetaed and while I preview and edit everything to the best of my abilities, I cannot possibly account for everything. This is also my first fanfic, so go easy on me! :)

 **Additional Notes** : Apologies for the embarrassingly long wait. I got pissed off by 'The Predator' movie (2018) and couldn't manage to write the next chapter for a long time. Anyone else see the movie?

Anyway, thank you to **mizukikage** , **FantasyReader2** , **Racheeele** , **hellion117** and **floresm217** for reviewing! Love the support and I am very surprised I see that so many people had followed and favorited! You guys are so awesome! :D

 _ **Warning!**_ : Graphic depictions of childbirth in this chapter!

* * *

 **Two Months Later...**

Royce didn't panic.

He worried but he wasn't paranoid and panic was instigated by fear and paranoia.

So in all retrospect, this should have been a walk in the park for him. That is, if Isabelle was currently giving birth in a safe, clean and emergency ready hospital and not a dark and inhospitable hole in the ground while she and Royce hid under a rotten stump. Predators stalked the jungle shadows, blades ready and poised to maim anything that so much as breathed and Royce was terrified. Not just afraid but terrified and he was panicking.

Isabelle had her hands clasped tightly over her mouth as wave after wave of contractions hit her and she writhed in agony next to him. Royce may have been kneeling stalk still, knife poised in front of him, ready to attack anything that moved outside the crevice they hid in but on the inside, he was trembling in fear and panicking so badly he wondered how he hadn't stabbed himself for being so jumpy.

His nerves were shot and his face pale with grim apprehension and he sat still and ready. _So ready._

Any moment now some snarling monster would come crashing into the hole and he had to be _ready_.

Isabelle let out a low whine and bit into her own hand to keep from screaming; satin-red blood running down her arms and dripping at the elbows. Royce couldn't turn to comfort her though. He had to be ready. Nothing could distract him from this; any moment they could die.

Twisting and arching her back, Isabelle's hands flew from her mouth to her crotch as they bunched up her hide dress and she arranged herself in a squatting position. Her eyes were screwed shut and her breathing became more and more labored as her body strained.

Royce refused to turn and support her. He had to be ready; those fuckers were out there waiting.

Another whimper from Isabelle and then she screamed abruptly and Royce jumped, knife flashing and cutting an inch into the thick root next to him, his heart hammering.

A barely audible thud sounded from above as the ground shook and the trunk creaked.

Royce hastily pried his knife loose and got ready again, eyes glued to the entrance. Any moment now...

Isabelle screamed again and this time it was long and drawn-out, her voice hoarse but deafening. Her knee's wobbled and she collapsed to her side, staining and crying, whimpers growing louder and louder. There was no telling how long her labor would last or even if she'd live to see the end of it, just as there was no telling if the child was even alive anymore. Accidents had happened...

Not-so-long-ago memories of gunfire, the screams of Royce's men and Isabelle's agonized cries, reverberated off the walls of his skull, the phantom noise making it hard to concentrate. Still, no towering alien loomed into view and no sound could be heard over Isabelle's moaning.

Royce wanted to tell her to be quiet; to put her hands back over her mouth but he kept his mouth shut and his back turned. He couldn't bear to look at her now. This was all his fault after all. If he hadn't been so arrogant and careless she would be giving birth in the safety of the Davenport, not in a wet and wormy hole. How he should face her after all this was over, he didn't know... that is, if they both made it. Nothing was for certain and all Royce knew is that he had to be ready.

Thrusting her head back, Isabelle screamed once more, hands fisting the ground and spreading her legs wider as she panted and gasped.

Royce wasn't a religious man. He never had been nor had he been raised with believing parents. Yet, in this moment he wondered if there was, somewhere out there watching, a god or some supernatural being. He wondered if they were sadistic, if they watched him and his mate struggle with pleasure. He wondered if he should pray to such an entity. What harm would it do?

 _Dear God, dear anything..._ he began in his head, _I know I've done wrong and made bad choices..._ he wasn't sure if he was talking about his life decisions or just this situation... _but if you could send a miracle, if you could save Isabelle and the baby, if we could live to see another day... that'd be great._

Royce shifted absently. _Sincerely, Royce._

Isabelle screamed again and it started to rain. Thunder boomed overhead and rain began to patter across the ground, making it to where Royce could barely see. The dark clouds hid the moon but Royce's eyes had long since adjusted to the dark. He could see his hands in front of him, the silver gleam of his knife and the top of Isabelle's head out of the corner of his eye.

Movement flashed outside of the trunk and Royce locked up. Still, nothing happened. The rain never slowed and the claps of thunder grew softer, almost melodic as the downpour raged on. No enemies, however. Yet, Royce remained poised, never letting go the tension that coiled in his gut.

He was still terrified and very close to physically trembling now. If he failed, there would be no second chance... no chance at all for the infant that struggled to come into this world.

The thought of never seeing his kid sickened him but not as much as the thought of Isabelle never getting to hold them. She had worked so hard for it after all. All Royce had done was argue with her and doubt himself. Isabelle had done all the work; she deserved to see the baby more than he did.

So it was for the sake of Isabelle he tightened his grip on his weapon and took a steady breath. _Calm, no panic. Focus, no fear._

It seemed like forever before the rain let up and the first few rays of dawn filtered through the foliage. Isabelle had gone still beside him, barely breathing and the only thing that told him she was even alive was her shallow hiccups. Royce longed to turn and check on her but his eyes stayed glued to the outside, watching and waiting.

A sudden long-winded groan sounded from his wife and Royce will never forget the noise that followed.

The shrill cry of an infant.

Eyes widening, Royce stared unseeingly ahead. _That was a baby_ , he thought blankly, _my baby_. Turning, his eyes desperately sought out the source of the acute wails and found a kicking and flailing, dripping red form between Isabelle's thighs. Slowly, his eyes drifted up to his mate's face as he took in her exhaustion and the sickly color to her skin. She was drenched in sweat and covered in mud, eyes rolling and lips parted to gulp air down. Alive, though just barely.

Royce then knew what he had to do. Stripping his shirt off, he gingerly scooped the infant up, cut the umbilical cord and cradled the squirming form to his chest. _She_ was speckled with blood and a crusty phlegm looking mucus, screaming at the top of her tiny little lungs, face scrunched up and tiny fists swinging around angrily.

Sunlight shone through the entrance, lighting up the tiny little babe as she squalled heartily, tasting the air and demanding comfort. Royce just stared down at her in utter shock and awe. Here she was. The infant Isabelle had carried all those long months, crying about it, yelling about it and worrying about the tiny little human being inside her until she made herself sick. And here she was.

Their daughter. _Dawn_.

Isabelle whimpered and Royce quickly turned to meet her bleary gaze, her brown eyes unfocused but flicking towards him with vague recognition. A full body shudder passed through her and she groaned loudly, passing the rest with a short huff. Still, her eyes remained fixed on him and the infant nestled against his bare flesh.

'' I... want...'' she managed to croak, sliding one arm across the slick ground towards him, fingers grazing his boot. Royce wasted no time crawling to her side, careful not jostle Dawn who curled into his warm chest, seeking nourishment and warmth. Ever so gently, he lowered their daughter to Isabelle's level but didn't hand her over. Isabelle was weak and in no condition to hold Dawn and it physically pained him to keep their daughter just out of reach but he didn't want Isabelle dropping her; the woman looked ready to pass out any second.

'' Belle,'' he cooed soothingly down at his mate, sidling closer so she could get a better look at Dawn,'' Its a girl. Strong. Healthy. Just like she's supposed to be.''

A weak smile quirked the edges of Isabelle's lips as she managed to reach up and stroke the still wailing infant's soft head. '' So... beautiful.''

Royce gave her a tired but encouraging smile, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. '' I...'' he hesitated but the strong thumping of his heart spurred him on,'' I named her Dawn. I know I didn't ask you first but I just felt like-''

The tiny smile never left Isabelle's face and she murmured,'' Dawn... I like it. She'll be strong... like the sun. Bright and beautiful...''

'' Yes, strong and beautiful...'' _just like you_ , Royce wanted to add but his heart lept in his throat before he could utter the words. Isabelle was closing her eyes.

'' No, no, no.'' Royce set Dawn aside, as he fearfully touched his wife, lightly shaking her. '' Belle, Belle! Stay with me!''

Isabelle refused to open her eyes again and her chest all but stopped rising. Royce felt panic tighten in his chest, his movements frantic as he hurried to perform mouth to mouth, something to wake Isabelle up. '' Please, Belle! No, open your eyes, dammit! Please!''

Beautiful chocolate brown eyes stayed shut, body unmoving and pulse fading rapidly. _No, no, no, no, no_ , echoed throughout Royce's head, _please don't go._

Hastily, he scooped up his daughter and moved Isabelle into his lap, settling the infant against his wife's chest. Next, he arranged her arms around the babe, tears streaming down his face as his breath hitched into messy sobs. '' Look, Belle... you're holding her. Holding our daughter... open your eyes and see... _please_.''

Dawn began to cry again, sensing her father's distress and still seeking the nourishment she would not receive. Stubby little arms flailed, fisting her mother's soggy dress and mouthing at her mother's collarbone. Royce's heart broke in half at the sight.

Shaking his head, he just held his wife and daughter as if he were afraid they'd _both_ disappear. It was if they kept him upright and not the other way around.

He stayed like that he knew not how long, only that Isabelle's body was cold and Dawn's crying had faded to soft whimpers. Unfeeling, he unfurled himself from his wife's body and sat beside it, hugging Dawn close. Dawn whined loudly and started to cry again at the movement and Royce's thoughts turned towards his daughter; how he would provide for the newborn.

 _Food. She needs food_ , he told himself as he gazed down with dead eyes at the upset babe, _how do I feed a newborn? Where would I find milk? Can I even find milk?_

Dawn whacked him as if prompting her father to hurry up and decide and Royce did.

Creeping out from underneath the tree trunk, he swiftly glanced around before hurrying to the nearest tree to take cover. Dawn had stopped crying the minute he had stood and was now staring in rapt attention to her new surroundings. Royce would have felt proud of her but panic was gripping him once more as he frantically searched for something edible.

In the back of his mind, he knew he'd find no food. Newborn's needed milk; their mother's or formula and Dawn's mother lay dead in a hole in the ground and there was no way baby formula would magically appear. Royce's heart clenched and Dawn, sensing her father's fear, began to wail at the top of her lungs to announce her discomfort.

It was several more minutes before he came back to his senses. Leaning against his tree, panting and dripping with sweat, he tried to calm his distressed daughter before giving up when it became clear Dawn was having none of it. Only food would satisfy her now. Food that didn't exist and that Royce couldn't provide.

Once again, he was letting himself down. He'd failed Isabelle, he'd failed himself and now he was failing Dawn. He'd watched his daughter be born, coming into the world full of life and vigor only to watch her starve... no, he couldn't. Isabelle may be dead but he refused to let Dawn die too. He couldn't let her down... _he couldn't_.

Resolve strengthed, he forced himself to try and come up with something while he trekked back to the stump. He needed a plan; he was good at plans. _Think, think, think,_ he demanded in his head, _something! There must be something!_

Suddenly, the air shifted and Royce's head snapped up, one arm cradling Dawn and the other fishing his knife out again.

A Predator stood before him. Blades sheathed and shoulder cannon offlined, simply staring at him through its expressionless mask. It was huge too, bigger than any of the Predators Royce had faced before and he got the sinking feeling that there was no way he'd win against this one... especially with Dawn in his arms.

That's when he noticed Isabelle behind the behemoth; lying stretched out on the forest floor, expression peaceful and arms at her sides. Her mouth was speckled with bright green blood and a steady stream dripped down a clawed hand.

Royce stared at the sight, uncomprehending and the Predator stared back, as if waiting for Royce's reaction.

The two could have stood there forever but then Isabelle coughed. _Coughed_.

The ex-sniper's whole body shook and she coughed violently, a hand flying to her mouth as she rolled over onto her side and vomited. Royce was so distracted by the sight, he didn't notice the pointed look the Predator gave his daughter or when it moved back into the shadows, taking its leave.

All Royce cared about at that moment was his wife.

So he ran to her and embraced her, calling out her name, again and again, thrusting Dawn into her open arms and kissing her mouth with a strangled sob. Isabelle kissed back fervently, clutching her daughter and whispering his name into their kiss.

Royce could have forgotten about the rest of the world at that moment. Nothing else mattered.

His family was alive and alive they would stay. He would make sure of it.

* * *

 **Sometime Later...**

Isabelle's recovery was rapid and weeks later, she didn't look like she'd given birth in the slightest.

Royce was happy she was healthy and back to her old self but the Predator's actions lingered in his mind. The bastard had fed his wife its _blood_ and somehow, revived her. Maybe Isabelle hadn't really died, maybe it had the technology to resurrect the dead or maybe there was something else entirely going on. Royce knew there was no way he could track that alien down and demand answers from it. He could, however, watch Isabelle closely.

His mate had recovered her full strength only several days after delivery and weeks later, her body molded itself back into what it had been before childbirth. Only the stretch marks on her belly remained as a proof of Dawn's birth. Isabelle was as fit and healthy as she'd ever been. She kept up with her husband without losing her breath, was rearing to go in the morning before even Royce and had no difficulty breastfeeding Dawn.

It pleased Royce that his wife was adapting to the role of a mother so well and he found himself ridiculously happy when he watched his wife and child together. Isabelle was beyond gentle with her daughter, methodical and patient but totally enraptured and in love with her. Who wouldn't be?

Dawn was a hand full, especially in a jungle while her parents traveled as far away as they could from the hunting zones. She often made enough noise to attract the attention of dangerous beasts and needed constant attention. If Isabelle ever looked away from her for a second, Dawn was shrieking for her attention again. If she caught sight of Royce, she would cry up a storm until placed in her father's arms, no amount of soothing or distracting from Isabelle could deviate her attention. Dawn was also unusually active for a newborn or at least her parents seemed to think so. She was either asleep as _most_ newborns would be or wide awake causing havoc, which is what _she_ was doing most of the time. She wanted to see everything, touch everything and often watched the world around her, be it the swaying trees or the play of shadows across the forest. She would also listen intently to the jungle noise, the exotic birds and the calls of alien animals. At times like this, she was quiet and docile. She reminded Royce of a lion cub; fierce and mouthy at times but quiet and observant the next, learning from her parents when to be still and quiet and what to listen for. Isabelle had commented on this one day.

'' She seems naturally attuned to her surroundings,'' his wife commented quietly while they bedded down in a canopy tree for the night.

Royce who had been half paying attention and more focused on scanning the treetops for potential threats, absently nodded. '' She's learning already.''

'' But she's only a two-month-old baby. Are they really that aware when so young?'' Isabelle inquired, trying to settle Dawn down and feed her. Their daughter, however, had other plans; mainly involving gurgling loudly and swiping at the dangling leaves overhead.

Royce shrugged, drawing his attention back to his family. '' I don't know but Dawn's bound to be different than regular kids. She's the first kid born on this planet I bet. Not to mention, her mother is a walking miracle.'' The last bit earned him an endearing smile and Royce struggled to keep his own face from grinning goofily back.

A few days later, Royce and Isabelle found a river.

The river was a deep, dark sea green and at first, Royce kept Isabelle back from it before tasting and testing the waters to make sure it was safe to drink and bathe in. After an hour of anxious waiting for Royce to keel over and choke or something, Isabelle gave Dawn her first real bath.

When their daughter had been born and Isabelle resurrected, they could only wash her off with water collected from plants. She was long overdue a bath and when Isabelle found a warm puddle of water, Dawn became fascinated with it. While Isabelle washed her off, Royce took a dip in the river, rotating his attention from his family to the outlying jungle. He hadn't seen hide or scale of those monsters nor the behemoth that saved his wife's life. While he was content to never see another Predator again, he knew he hadn't seen the last of them. He'd gotten cocky with his men and as a result, his men had gotten sloppy with safety procedures and hunts. It had been Carter who doused his arrogance with cold reality. The Mexican had noticed a pattern in the Predator's sparse activity that Royce cursed himself for not noticing sooner. Their keepers had systematically started dropping humans in specific areas close to the Davenport and releasing the hounds, closer and closer to them. The hounds tracked the soldiers, both Royce's and new drops closer to home and when killed, their bodies were processed or left behind. Carter had noticed this and when he alerted his boss, Royce dismissed his concerns.

'' The closer they get the easier it will be to hunt them and bring the meat back. We won't have to venture into the hunting grounds anymore and it's not like the hounds can tell them where we are, dead hounds can't track after all,'' Royce had told his second months prior.

Carter had merely shaken his head at his boss's words and stomped off.

Days later, the Predators ambushed them in the middle of the night and slaughtered half of them. It began with the sentries and then all the sudden Predators were pouncing on them in the middle of their own home; it had been a bloodbath. Royce had only managed to get Isabelle and himself out because of Todd, the old Navy Seal. The elderly man had covered for them as they bolted down the slippery mountain slope, Royce having to carry Isabelle most of the way. A couple of hours later, Isabelle went into labor in a hole in the ground.

Turns out, Carter had been right. Their keepers had been using the new recruits and the hounds to track them closer and closer to their hideout. No, they didn't follow the hounds but they found their corpses and to Royce's horror, he'd realized too late that they'd left a breadcrumb trail of hound corpses for the Predators to follow, which of course, led them to the mountains. Then it became only a matter of time before they learned of the location of the base and ambushed them all.

Royce wasn't sure if anyone had survived. He supposed it was entirely possible but so far, he hadn't seen any sign of any survivors and at the moment he wasn't sure if he wanted to either. He was entirely to blame for everyone's reckless behavior and disregarding Carter's warning. He wouldn't be surprised if they tried to kill him out of revenge or just plain saltiness.

An excited squeal from his daughter interrupted his thoughts and he looked over to find the baby girl kicking her feet and splashing her mother who laughed in return. A genuine smile lit his face and he exited the water to saunter over to them.

'' How's the bath going?'' he asked, sitting beside Isabelle and accepting a chaste kiss from the brunette.

Dawn babbled cheerfully at him as if trying to answer his question in her own way. Royce smiled at his daughter, catching her tiny hand and watching with utter fascination as she latched on to his thumb and gnawed on the digit.

'' Well, at this rate, she'll splash all the warm water out but I guess for her first bath, she's enjoying it as you can see,'' Isabelle answered, watching her husband and child with a knowing smirk.

'' When do you think she'll be able to talk?'' he then asked as he listened to the babe gurgled nonsensically at him, her 'talking' smothered slightly by his thumb in her mouth.

'' I don't know, maybe when she's nine months old... I never thought I'd have any kids so I can't say I ever paid any attention to this stuff. Wish I had though, might have come in handy when I suddenly get kidnapped by aliens and have a baby on an alien planet.'' Isabelle's tone was joking but her eyes held a seriousness to them that Royce picked up on immediately.

'' You're doing fine, Belle,'' he assured her, taking her chin to make her look at him,'' I couldn't ask for a better wife and partner and I'm sure Dawn appreciates everything you do and loves you too. You're _her mother_ after all.''

Isabelle smiled softly at that and looked back down at their daughter who gleefully splashed her with water. '' I guess so...''

Royce shook his head and drew his wife in for a brief but searing kiss. '' There is no guessing, I know so.''

In the moments that followed, the two nearly fell into each other but Royce had to remind them both that Dawn needed constant supervision and now was not the time nor place. Isabelle reluctantly agreed and the three pressed on, hoping they'd arrive at a place far from the hounds and the Predators.

What they found was almost as good.

A hidden valley nestled in between shallow peaks brimming with vibrant plant life and dense forests to shield them from an ariel view. It was also teeming with all manner of beasts. Strange plant-eating reptiles that had antlers as big as caribou but slender bodies like antelope and scales and a tail like a lizard. There were also large beasts similar to water buffalo with massive horns that curved around their heads, so big they could have easily knocked an elephant over and were also a dark shade of indigo with thick hairy hides. The were other animals with mind-blowing characteristics and both Royce and Isabelle were relieved to find only one species of carnivore present. A type of saber-toothed tiger the size of a mountain lion with bushy tails and scaled feet. Nothing Royce couldn't handle, besides their nest was on the opposite side of the valley, far enough from Royce's family to were he wouldn't have to constantly worry about them.

Although Royce had had enough of caves, Isabelle managed to find and convince him to settle down in a cave behind a waterfall. The view was gorgeous and the water hid them from thermal trackers. It was dry enough to be livable in and had a hidden exit in the back that could be easily walled up but taken down in an emergency. After pointing all this out to her reluctant husband, Royce couldn't find any reason to say no and the couple instantly got to work on making the cave their own.

Royce made walls, beds and furniture like tables and chairs. He hunted the buffalo and reptilian antelope, for meat and skins, fashioning weapons from their horns and clothes and blankets from their hides. Isabelle tried to help him hunt but after Dawn's excited shrieking when she saw anything move, it was decided that Isabelle would have to be a stay-at-cave mom. Of course, she went out looking for edible plants and made things from the resources Royce harvested like Dawn's first straw doll. It was stuffed with straw and covered in thin scraps of leather to keep the sharp straw ends from poking Dawn. Their daughter fell in love with her first toy and any attempts at taking it away from her were aborted immediately when she started bawling her eyes out. The doll went everywhere with Dawn; she had it during bathtime, she smeared food all over it during mealtimes and slept with it tucked under her arm.

When their daughter reached eight months, she said her first words that weren't ''Mam'' or ''Da''.

One night during dinner while Isabelle was trying and failing to feed her mashed greens, Isabelle whacked the spoon away with an angry squawk. '' Fuck off!''

Royce had almost dropped his whole plate in surprise and Isabelle's mouth fell open. Isabelle was the first to recover and she immediately scolded Dawn who pouted in return. Royce just passed a tired hand over his face and met Isabelle's disappointed stare. Of course, she'd blame him for this.

'' I didn't think-'' Royce began but then snapped his mouth shut when his wife's ''look'' morphed into a full-fledged glare complete with hands on her hips.

'' Exactly! You didn't think! Dawn's not just a baby anymore, she's learning and she's learning how to say what her dad says even if dad isn't watching what he says. Here I was looking forward to her first few words... and she tells me to fuck off! Just peachy, Royce!'' the ex-sniper berated him, looking both pissed and somewhat amused and Royce wasn't sure if the latter was a positive thing or not.

Yet, before he could formulate an apology, Isabelle sat back down, furiously scooping up more greens and muttering angrily. '' Next time, remember that our daughter has big ears and is paying attention to every word her daddy and mommy says...''

Royce nodded quickly and finished his food, deciding to check on the perimeter.

* * *

 **The Next Day...**

While last nights perimeter check went fine, tomorrow mornings did not.

And it all started with the hellhound that got the jump on Royce.

He had been tracking one of those scaled antelope trying to multi-task when the beast had hurled itself out of the bushes, latching onto his arm. A half-strangled shout was barely out of his mouth before the beast began to shake him, whipping him side to side and nearly ripping his arm off in the process. The horns covering its leathery hide scraped and tore through his hide clothing like it was mere paper. Through the haze of pain, his instincts finally kicked into gear and he began stabbing the thing in the throat with his dagger.

Yipping, the hound relinquished his arm and bounded away, howling in pain. Royce staggered, clutching his arm and breathing harshly, trying to formulate some form of rational thought through the pain. _Ignore the pain_ , he tried to convince his body, _find the hound. Kill the hound. Get rid of the body._

Dragging himself forward, he focused on following the blood trail and found the beast hiding in a hollow, whimpering and trying to shield itself from view. Royce glared at the alien beast and unslung his bow, notching an arrow and aimed for the beast's skull. His arrows were made from the carved bone of the purple buffalo, sharp enough to slice through anything and his bow had a high draw rate, enabling enough power to penetrate through bone. O _ne shot, one kill_ , his mind told him but the other part of him urged him to rethink; what the hell was this hound _doing_?

It was cowering, Royce realized, lowering his bow a notch. It had run away after getting stabbed and he'd never seen a hound retreat before; they always carried through their attacks even if it cost them their limbs and lives. Yet, here this one was... shivering and whimpering in a corner, trying to shield its injured side from him, still snarling but only in the ' _I'm-hurt-please-do_ _n't_ _-hurt-me-more_ ' sort of way.

Then he noticed the size. It only reached his mid thigh and its jaws were clearly under-developed, teeth less jagged and mouth narrower. Its horns were smaller and less thick and its hide was a bright blue, speckled with grey flecks, yet to dull in color. '' Its a pup,'' he suddenly said aloud, lowing his weapon completely.

It was indeed a pup. Royce had had a puppy when he was a child, given to him by his eager parents. It had been a lab-mix and had been scared of the slightest _bang_ or _boom_. The sounds his dog had once made out of fear, where the same ones this alien monster dog was making at him right now. And the nostalgia that crept up on him was so nauseating he growled at himself in disgust.

Now what? He couldn't kill the thing but he couldn't leave it either, there was no telling what it would do. Not to mention, when a hellhound was around, a Predator wasn't far behind. Not good.

That's when a crazy idea hit him that his wife was sure to yell at him for. Still, it brought a slapped-silly look to his face and he set to work.

First, he set a trap. A netted trap with a weight, that when triggered would scoop its victim up into the air. It wasn't very strong, so he'd have to be quick about it. Next, he shot and gutted an antelope, placing some of its meat in the trap as bait. Then he waited, hidden by the dense brush.

It only took a couple of minutes and soon the air lit with frightened yowls and pained whimpers. Royce sprung from his cover and rushed over just as the trap crashed to the ground. Throwing himself at the hound pup, he tacked it to the ground, avoiding its horns and bound its feet and muzzle. Satisfied with his work and assured the beast couldn't free itself, he began to drag it back home.

Well, not home but close enough. He had some work to do with it first before he let anywhere near his family.

* * *

 **Three Months Later...**

As it turns out, Royce never got the chance to properly introduce the pup to his family. Dawn was too impatient for that.

His daughter had started walking at nine months and in the following two months, she became an absolute terror. Isabelle had to follow her everywhere or tie a make-shift toddler harness on Dawn to keep track of her. If she didn't, Dawn would explore and by explore, Royce meant she'd get lost in the woods or go swimming in the deeper pools found near the waterfall and she knew how to swim, almost too well for a child her age.

Naturally, he knew he should have been more careful concerning his mischevious toddler and taking care of the hound- whom he offhandedly named Cujo after he went home the first night and had Isabelle tend to his ravaged arm. Actually, Isabelle had more or less named the dog when he reffused to tell her what happened to him.

'' What happened to your arm?'' his mate had asked him for the fifteenth time that night.

Royce just shrugged, wincing at the pain that flared and grunted,'' Accident, was careless.''

'' You look like you got savaged by that Steven King dog... which is what I'm going to assume happened.'' Royce shrugged again before catching the reference and frowning.

'' Cujo?'' he muttered, thinking that the fictional Saint Bernard wasn't too far off from the hound that sat tied up to a tree not to far away.

'' That's the one. You ever see that movie?'' Isabelle asked as she applied a soothing balm to his inflamed wound.

Royce thought a moment and shook his head. '' Buddy of mine saw it. Said he never wanted to see it again though.''

'' He'd piss his pants out here then,'' Isabelle joked lightly, apparently deciding to leave the matter of his wound alone. Royce nodded in an agreement, thinking that most of his buddies would've crapped their pants at the sight of the pup; and it was just a _pup_ , not even fully grown.

Speaking of which, Royce had practically crapped _his_ pants when he'd discovered a very delighted 11-month-old Dawn sitting _on_ the pup.

The toddler should have been with her mother who was probably panicking back home at the moment and he? Royce had been hunting, simply stopping by Cujo to feed him some scraps. And there was his daughter, blithely climbing on top of a very pacified Cujo and shrieking enthusiastically as she grappled with the blunt horns, boosting herself up onto his back.

Royce nearly panicked at the sight but then had to force himself to stop and breathe. The only reason Cujo wasn't attacking or brutalizing his daughter was probably because she smelled like him; also he'd been using Isabelle and Dawn's clothing to familiarize the pup with their scents. However, if Royce suddenly shouted or charged at them, clearly in distress, it would signal to Cujo that the little girl clambering around on his back was a threat. And Royce didn't even want to think of what would happen then.

So he approached calmly, dropping his weapons and slowly approaching the pup, who smelled him and barked irritably at him. Royce made a sound of disapproval and Cujo whined in response, averting his eyes and laying his head down.

'' Dawn,'' he called softly to his daughter who twisted around and gave him a gleeful grin in response.

'' Daddy!'' the toddler shrieked as she slid off the hound and bolted towards him, arms outstretched, ready to be picked up. Immediately, Royce scooped the squealing child into his arms and buried his face into her bony shoulder. _Never do this to me again_ , he wanted to scold her but knew it would do no good. He didn't want her to be scared of Cujo but at the same time, he wanted her to understand the hound was dangerous and could hurt her at any time.

But how to explain that to a toddler?

'' Dawn,'' he began carefully, unsure on how to word this properly,'' This is Cujo.'' He gestured towards the pup who lifted his head in response.

'' Cue-go,'' Dawn mimed, trying her best to copy him. _Close enough_ , he chuckled.

'' Cujo is a no-no,'' he continued,'' Cujo is daddy's dog and daddy doesn't want you near Cujo without him.''

'' No-no,'' Dawn repeated, looking as serious as a toddler could get,'' Cue-go no-no.''

'' Only when daddy's not here,'' Royce tried to explain,'' Or mommy. Cujo-okay when mommy or daddy are here, okay?''

'' Oh-kay,'' she repeated and laid her head on his shoulder like she was suddenly tired.

 _And we are going home now_ , he thought as he kicked some meat in Cujo's direction, retrieved his gear and left. Trekking back to the cave with Dawn in his arms was easy but he wondered how she had gotten over there in the first place. She wasn't even one years old and had somehow managed to hike over to Cujo- and _find_ Cujo. Unless she had done this all before-

Royce shook his head. _Impossible_. Dawn may be energetic and extraordinarily perceptive for a toddler but there was no way she'd followed him without him knowing it. Absolutely no fucking way... but he couldn't think of any other way and he sure as hell wasn't voicing this suggestion to Isabelle. It would be a big enough shit-storm when he returned and told his wife anyway.

And it was a huge shit-storm.

'' You've been keeping a what- in the forest?!'' Isabelle screamed at him when he got back and explained what happened after she snatched Dawn from him, hugging the sleepy toddler close.

'' A hellhound _pup_ and look, I know it doesn't sound like a good idea but I've been-''

'' What is wrong with you?! Our daughter followed you to it! She could have been killed, you stupid moron of a man! And here you're trying to make excuses-'' Royce sighed, rubbing his face with his hands and trying to come up with a plan to both apologize but make Isabelle realize he hadn't intentionally put Dawn in danger; there was no way he could have predicted what his daughter had done.

'' Isabelle!'' he snapped, effectively cutting his wife off in mid-tirade,'' I know its a shit-thing to do. I didn't know she'd follow me and I'm not making excuses! I nearly had a heart attack when I found her with the pup but what else I found was Dawn, not only with the hound, but _on_ it. As in using him as a fucking jungle-gym and he did nothing, nothing to her! I've been using your clothing to familiarize him with your scents because eventually, I want him in the cave guarding you. If I can fucking train one of those bastards, then I'm going to fucking train them to protect you when I'm not here. I have to hunt, gather and patrol the perimeter and I can't always be here for you, should there be an emergency. This pup could not only protect you with its life but give you an extra couple of seconds, so you and Dawn can hide if a Predator finds us! Besides, this is basically just a big slobbery dog we are talking about. He can smell threats before us, signal danger and guard, just like Dobermans or German Shepherds. Those breeds of dogs could savage you too but they have training, which I'm doing. And judging by today, I've been successful if our daughter can fucking climb all over him without'em making a sound or moving a muscle.''

Isabelle was silent; sitting on a chair, chin resting on Dawn's shoulder. Royce began wondering if he'd just shot himself in the foot when his wife spoke up. '' I want to see this pup tomorrow.'' Her tone brooked no argument and Royce nodded; relieved. He could show her Cujo meant no harm and that his idea would work.

And it did.

Several weeks later, Cujo was let off the leash so-to-speak and lived in the cave with them. It was a big step for Isabelle to make but Royce was proud of her and vehemently promised that nothing would happen. Dawn would grow up with a loyal and protective companion and Royce could rest easy that his family was protected without him.

Cujo for his part, tried his very best to behave and was nothing like his rabid counterparts. He was eager to please, had a stub of a tail that he would wag occasionally and was as patient with a curious toddler as a giant alien hound could be. He looked like something straight out of a nightmare but Dawn didn't find his scary appearance frightening in the slightest. If anything she was enraptured by him and found Cujo the most interesting thing in the world. His daughter would climb all over him, ride him around like a pony and poke and prod every inch of the pup. Isabelle eventually came to trust the hound when she found Dawn sleeping at his side, his head tucked into her shoulder and curled around the toddler to give her warmth.

Satisfied with the way things had turned out, Royce found the confidence to venture further from the valley. He was able to leave for extended periods of time and when he returned, he found his family safe and sound; Dawn happy as can be and Isabelle, safe and content. Cujo was doing his job and Royce supposed, even better than a human could.

Which was probably why what happened, happened.

Dawn was a two-year-old and Cujo, a fully grown hellhound with a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth and sculpted horns. He had already proven himself in several ways, protecting his family against the saber-tooth cats and following the adventurous toddler around dutifully whenever her mother lost track of her.

So when Royce left for a run to former Noland's hideout for some rare resources like guns and such, Isabelle was left with Dawn and Cujo.

'' Dawn, come on! It's getting dark and we need to head home to start dinner,'' Isabelle hollered after her wandering daughter, gathering up her herbs and greens. As it turns out, the valley was ripe with edible plants- provided the majority were cooked and softened.

Dawn, who was busy throwing rocks at a lizard looking specimen, merely shouted back,'' I wanna stay! I like night-time!''

Isabelle glared over her shoulder and Dawn shuffled guiltily at her mother's ''look''. '' It's not up for debate, Dawn. Get over here,'' Isabelle retorted with a snort. _Already back-talking at age two_ , she thought in annoyance and began hiking back.

Dawn pouted and tried to copy her mother's glare and Cujo, who always remained with Dawn, nudged the reluctant toddler forward, ever mindful of his horns. The two-year-old just pouted some more but followed her mother anyway. She'd try to convince her mother to let her play some more while she made dinner.

However, when they got within a first couple yards of the waterfall, Cujo halted and sniffed the air, fangs bared and instinctively blocking Dawn. The toddler simply stared at the hound before trying to walk around him; in response, the hound moved with her, barring her way.

Frustrated, Dawn put her hands on her hips, attempting to mimic her mother and chastised,'' Bad doggie, move it!''

Cujo refused and began steadily maneuvering himself and Dawn away from the cave. Dawn, being only two years old and already irritated, got impatient with Cujo and tried to run around him, laughing as she did so, thinking that maybe the hellhound was only playing.

Cujo, who wasn't playing, grabbed her by the collar of her dress and growled, dragging her away as fast as he could. Still, Dawn thought the hound was only playing and shrieked happily, attempting to wrestle away from his jaws.

Suddenly she could hear a strange clicking sound and a weird and unpleasant smell wafted over to her. It smelled bad and for some reason, made her sick to her stomach. The clicking noise wasn't helping much; it sounded foreign and scary. Daddy had once told her something about clicking noises but she couldn't remember.

Luckily, Cujo remembered for her and growled low in his throat, getting her attention _and_ making the clicking stop.

'' What is it, Cujo?'' the toddler asked quietly, starting to get afraid and wanting very much to find her mother. Mommy would make the smell and sounds go away but for now, Cujo was the next best thing.

Cujo growled again, lifting his black lips in response and dragging her further away, slow and cautious. Dawn didn't know what to do. Home and mommy were in the opposite direction that Cujo seemed to want to go and mommy hated it when she stayed outside at night. Dawn was scared and starting to get cold and hungry; two things mommy made go away.

She wanted her mommy.

'' Mommy!'' the frightened two-year-old screeched in the direction of home and Cujo growled loudly in response, as if admonishing her for being loud. Dawn didn't care; she wanted her mommy, _now_.

'' Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!'' she cried out, starting to panic because her mother wasn't responding and to Dawn's understanding, the word ''mommy'' _always_ made her mother appear... so why wasn't she appearing now?

Cujo was still dragging her backwards and Dawn decided that the hellhound wasn't being good and promptly tore her dress from his jaws, bolting forward, the hound hot on her heels.

She didn't get far because she felt the hellhound's teeth catch her dress again and this time, he wasn't letting go. However, it didn't matter because Dawn had frozen on the spot. The toddler had caught sight of something horrific and smelled something even worse. Cujo had hauled her away from a torn and very red-stained slip of her mother's dress. Also the smell... she didn't recognize it and she instinctively gagged. It smelled like burnt meat... only worse, so much worse.

Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes and she was about to start calling for her mother again when Cujo yanked her backwards. She stumbled and tripped over her own feet, trying to keep up with the back peddling alien hound and couldn't formulate enough rational thought to try and escape or struggle.

So she reluctantly got on Cujo's back and let the hellhound do the thinking for her. Deciding that his charge was secured on his back, he raced away from their home with one thought on his mind; _protect the pup_.

Dawn didn't know what was going on but whatever it was, she didn't know how to handle it and had no idea where or what happened to her mother. So she did what any two-year-old would do and began crying.

Her whimpers formed,'' Mommy'' and ''Daddy'' but somehow she knew neither of her parents would appear right now. Daddy had gone on one his ''trips'' and mommy, well Dawn wasn't sure where mommy went. So she simply held fast to Cujo who was galloping through the forest a top speed, tearing through bushes that tore at her skin and leaping over rocks. But Dawn stubbornly held on... she was strong enough.

Eventually, she lost track of time and at some point fell off of Cujo and hit the ground, dead-asleep before impact. Cujo immediately made a 'U' and came back to sniff his unconscious pup, making sure she wasn't injured and merely asleep. Assured she was fine, he curled around her but didn't join her in her slumber, he had to make sure nothing threatened them.

Dawn slept for five hours before Cujo roused her by licking her face and rolling her over, whining urgently in her ear. '' Go-way, Cujo... sleepy,'' was the toddler's muddled response. Cujo didn't understand the command and didn't care, it was time to go.

Grabbing the girl's dress, he began dragging her which successfully roused the child and she blearily clambered onto his back again. He took off the minute she settled.

Unfortunately, Dawn fell asleep again and Cujo was forced to find a temporary shelter when it started to rain. He picked a well-dug out hole in the ground that he was positive hadn't had any residents in a while and laid next to the exhausted toddler, head laying beside her own.

He would protect his pup with his life. No threat would get passed him.


	3. Chapter 2

**Rating** : M for violence/gore, strong language, adult themes and more. Read at your own discretion.

 **Summary** : Royce once promised Isabelle he'd find them a way home… but nine months later, he's holding his infant daughter, tears staining his cheeks. He's determined to protect her no matter what but things take an interesting turn when the Yautja learn there's an Ooman pup on the loose.

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own the Predators/Aliens universe, all rights belong to Fox and all the respective parties. Also, keep in mind this story is unbetaed and while I preview and edit everything to the best of my abilities, I cannot possibly account for everything. This is also my first fanfic, so go easy on me! :)

 **Additional Notes** : I apologize for the long wait. Life was unforgiving with its distractions and what not but here you go. Further notes at the end!

* * *

The next day brought gnawing hunger pains and more hysteria.

Despite Cujo's efforts, Dawn refused to eat the antelope he had hunted for her. The pup was currently seated on the ground, quietly picking at blades of grass and hiccupping every now and then. Much to Cujo's annoyance, she wouldn't even look at the meal he'd brought and now he was torn on whether or not he should chow down without her. It felt wrong to ignore the pup but she was being obstinate and Cujo needed to eat too. He needed the strength and energy to carry her and protect her; yet, he couldn't bring himself to eat without her.

Whining, he nudged her arm and the child merely pulled away from him, refusing to even look at him now. Concern plagued Cujo as he watched the small child idly flick at rocks and shred blades of grass. After waking up this morning, Dawn had been quiet and meek, the complete opposite from the noisy and adventurous toddler she normally was.

It could be the absence of her parents but then again what did he know? He was but a product of brutality with sharp teeth and sinister horns and a thick leathery hide. How could he possibly understand the feelings of a Human child?

So he did what any faithful and loyal companion might do and laid next to the sulking child, deciding to wait her out. Just maybe she'd get hungry and eat the carcass that currently lay some yards away. He hoped that when that happened, it would be sometime soon; he didn't want her to eat spoiled meat.

Hours trickled by and Cujo had fallen asleep; napping in appearance but ready to spring up should he hear anything. Dawn, however, became tired of playing in the dirt and was thinking about crying for her tummy wouldn't stop grumbling. Risking a glance at the rancid corpse Cujo had left near them, she frowned and tried to imagine herself eating it.

She could eat it but even her two-year-old mind told her it would probably make her sick. Besides, it smelled horrible and had insects buzzing around it now. Mommy would have cooked it, she knew and her dad would have skinned it and hung it to dry first. That's how meat was supposed to be prepared but she was in no position to do any of that... was she?

Slowly, she stood and walked over to the lump of smelly meat. It was disgusting to look at and she felt repulsed. However, she was hungry... and eventually, her hunger pains won over caution. Bending down, she reluctantly tore at animals throat, where Cujo had previously savaged it, breaking and tearing its neck open. Her fingers came away covered in sticky crimson with gore caked under her fingernails. Cautiously, she brought her fingertips to her mouth and sucked on the digits, face scrunching up in disgust at the taste. However, she soon scraped more onto her fingers and began feeding herself. It made her sick but she couldn't help it; the hunger was too great and she was desperate and unable to know better.

A few minutes later, Cujo joined her, tearing into his kill opposite of Dawn. He was pleased the pup had eventually eaten and was confident on feeding her now. He would hunt and she would eat his kills. Simple.

At least, it was to Cujo.

A couple of days later, Dawn became sick. The tiny child had a raging fever, the chills, and bad diarrhea. Cujo couldn't diagnose any of this except the pup was horribly ill. He still hunted and she still ate what he brought her but it wasn't enough. Cujo, being only a hound, wasn't aware he was lacking but knew something was wrong, that something had to be done before Dawn died.

Cujo didn't know what to do though. His master's mate was dead, he'd smelled as much and the master himself was away, somewhere Cujo wasn't allowed to go. So what could he do for Dawn? He tried his best; giving her the warmth of his body, nudging her towards a water source and diligently hunting.

But days crept by with no improvement. Dawn wasn't able to travel anymore and lay comatose under a shaded bush that Cujo staked as a temporary home. Her temperature had risen dangerously and she moaned in pain and called out for her parents, hallucinating often.

Still, Cujo could do nothing. He was agitated with the situation; Dawn wasn't getting better and by now, Cujo was desperate for some help, any help.

So when the Predator showed up, Cujo forced himself to stand still and ignore his instincts that urged him to attack the giant alien. He recognized the smell and the appearance of one of that which kept him and his pack as pups. This type of alien brought pain and had starved him into savagery and he wanted nothing more than to chew on the Predator's throat but for Dawn's sake, kept mercifully still.

The Predator sat perched upon a branch high up in the canopy, hawkish and silent. Many hours passed by before it decided to descend and uncloak. Cujo growled faintly but held his ground, now laying down in front of the bush Dawn was in.

The Predator clicked at the hound and Cujo vaguely recognized the command to 'stand down'. However, his loyalty to his current master overrode any dormant loyalty he ever felt towards the Predators.

The two aliens watched each other for another couple of minutes before the Predator moved a couple of steps forward and clicked again, signally to Cujo to 'move away'. As much as he didn't want to, he knew that the Predator would be able to help the feeble toddler and that was what was important; so he obeyed the command and moved away. He didn't go far and decided to sit down a couple of yards away, close enough to attack if need be but far enough to where the Predator was satisfied with his distance.

Dawn coughed weakly, drawing both their attention to the bush and Cujo felt his hackles raise in response. The Predator watched him for a few more seconds and finally turned away, reaching under the bush to gently drag Dawn out. Cujo was on his feet in an instant and the Predator was eyeing him again, Dawn's arm in his clawed hand.

Another click to 'stand down' and Cujo sat down, hackles still raised and teeth bared only slightly in warning. Turning its attention back to the unconscious Human, it took something off its belt and started arranging things on the ground, slow and careful. Whatever the Predator did next made no sense to Cujo but he tolerated it; whatever it was had to do with forcing strange smelling fluids down the pup's throat and injecting her with a sharp needle. Dawn coughed weakly but the Predator kept his hand over her mouth, forcing the child to swallow the liquid.

Minutes flew by as the Predator tended to Dawn and then it rose, collecting its things, cloaking and disappearing from view. Cujo rose and checked on Dawn, finding her breathing better now and smelling a tad less sick. Quickly, he scented the air and found the Predator had left them. It had accomplished what Cujo wanted and he was happy. Dawn even _looked_ better.

Satisfied, Cujo curled around Dawn and went to sleep.

The next day, Dawn was awake and hungry. While still weak enough to where she couldn't travel far yet, she managed to crawl after Cujo while he hunted. He periodically checked on her and either found her asleep or fiddling with a stick or the like. She ate vigorously when he came back with fresh kill and Cujo was overjoyed her appetite had returned.

His mood was quashed when she threw it all up not but an hour later and fell into a deep sleep. Cujo could only watch over her, hoping she didn't relapse.

She didn't.

Dawn awoke the next morning, stronger and still as hungry as before. Gradually, the toddler began to get her strength back and was soon skipping after Cujo and wandering off and playing with all sorts of things again. She slipped back into her carefree self and when Cujo thought she had fully recovered, he began trying to teach the pup how to hunt.

It was his duty to rear her now while her mother was dead and his master off Cujo knew not where. So it became time for Dawn's first hunting lesson.

First, he had to get her attention. All the toddler wanted to do was explore and climb things. He had brought them to a wide-open savanna, out of the jungle and far away from where they used to live. Many herd grazers lived on the savanna and Cujo was certain he could overpower any predators here, so he decided this would be the perfect place to teach Dawn how to hunt. _Would be_ \- being the keyword as Cujo soon discovered. Dawn wasn't interested in hunting and instead chased after all sorts of small critters and threw rocks at things and climbed the savanna trees until Cujo got fed up and barked at her to come down.

Eventually, he grabbed her attention when he nudged her over to a heard of buffalo-looking beasts. The toddler instantly became captivated by the buffalo and thankfully had enough sense to stay hidden in the long grass.

Cujo then demonstrated how to stalk, chase and kill one the buffalo. He kept upwind of the buffalo he'd selected, a large male bull, young and unaware. He moved slowly through the rustling grass, camouflaged and stock still when need be. He was patient and diligent, keeping just out of sight but slinking closer and closer until he sat not but a couple of yards from the buffalo. Some of the older beasts had already fled, having seen or sensed him but the young buffalo ignored his kin and kept grazing. Finally, he bunched his legs underneath him and lept at the buffalo, successfully ambushing it and able to get a strong hold; his teeth lodged in its shoulder to inhibit movement and his claws sunk deep in the flesh. The beast bucked and thrashed, running a few measly yards to try and dislodge its attacker but with no avail. Cujo was firmly planted and not letting go.

Eventually, it ran out of energy and tripped, giving Cujo the chance he needed to chomp down on its throat and wrench its head backward. After successfully rending the beast immobile, he barked for Dawn and was pleased to see her pop up from where he'd last left her. Dawn approached cautiously, eyeing the buffalo with distrust as it kicked and struggled weakly.

Cujo let it go and watched as the buffalo writhed forward a bit before stilling, wheezing and bellowing in pain. He then walked over to Dawn and nudged her towards it; wanting her to make the kill. Dawn crept forward, seemingly aware of what he wanted but still unsure on what to do.

Knowing she didn't have the fangs or claws to slice into the beast, Cujo just waited for the child to come up with her own method. Her claws were blunt and her teeth dull compared to his but she was creative, smarter than him... she could figure something out.

And she did. Picking up a rock, she approached the buffalo who squealed in fear at her presence and tried to get up, droplets of blood flying everywhere. Foam dripped from its mouth and it thrashed wildly but Dawn didn't back away, instead her eyes were determined and her posture ripe with tension. Cujo gave her an encouraging grunt and Dawn took a deep breath, lunging at the buffalo. With an animalistic cry, she brought the stone down upon the beast's head again and again. Blood gushed out, washing over her hands and soiling the ground in pools but the buffalo still thrashed and gurgled, striking out with its hooves. It caught Dawn in the stomach and she rolled back but didn't lose her grip on the rock. Jumping up again, she pounced on the buffalo, dogged and berserk with the need to finish the kill. It took excruciatingly long but she managed to bludgeon the beast to death and promptly ripped into the carcass after confirming its death. Blood streamed down her mouth, chest and torso and gore was stuck in her nails and teeth. Cujo was proud of her nevertheless and left the pup to her kill, hunting his own, much larger buffalo.

Hours later, the child's hunger was sated and she was playing with the entrails of the buffalo, covered head to toe in scarlet stickiness. Parental instincts kicking in, he sat down and pulled Dawn into his lap, licking her all over, intent on cleaning his pup. Dawn put up minimal fuss, apparently finding the impromptu bath relaxing and fell asleep soon afterward.

Today had gone extremely well in Cujo's opinion. Dawn had shown the drive to kill and the attentiveness to hunt and now knew the thrill of killing. Now came the hunting part.

The next day, Dawn and he returned to the savanna and another hunting lesson occurred. This one was even more successful than the last because Dawn accompanied him in the stalking and chasing.

It took many tries for Dawn to learn how to keep still and quiet and how to follow Cujo's lead but she was still only a toddler. After many failed attempts, Cujo finally chased down another buffalo and let Dawn kill it. After mealtime, Cujo prompted Dawn to try stalking antelope on her own. The antelope were dumb and had poor senses, mainly relying on hearing and speed to help them survive. It was more a lesson on how to be quiet than anything. While Dawn failed the overall hunting part, it was all valuable practice for her.

A month later, she had gotten stalking down to a T. The toddler had grown a bit in height and gotten remarkably stronger and faster from hunting with Cujo. She still had trouble killing her prey but knew how to stalk and give chase.

Proud of his pup, he moved on to self-defense. This was a trickier lesson considering he grossly outweighed the toddler and was covered in sharp horns with a mouthful of razor sharp, child-shredding teeth. Nevertheless, when he attempted it, Cujo found that he could teach her small things like how to sense danger and what to do when cornered. Anything else resulted in numerous scrapes, dark bruises and fat crocodile tears.

Despite the beginning of their eventful new life, Cujo now felt confident Dawn would survive and thrive even under his protection. She showed vast potential in hunting and was an avid learner who seemed to understand his subtle pack language and how to take queues from him.

It was all and well until that Predator came back.

For months Cujo picked up whiffs of its scent, either fresh or stale which meant the Predator had been in the area and was systematically keeping tabs on them. Dawn and he had traveled miles into the savanna and past many other jungles, eventually staking a claim on a small watering hole and patch of trees. The Predator seemed to keep a wide berth of their home base but nevertheless, it couldn't hide its scent completely from Cujo's acute sense of smell.

He wasn't worried though. This particular Predator hadn't expressed any intention of harming Dawn nor any hostility towards Cujo, even going as far keep clear of the territory boundaries Cujo had set. He never saw the Predator and that was fine with him.

However, the massive alien showed up one day while Dawn played in the watering hole, making mud-pies and wallowing in the muddy water. Cujo lay upon a warm flat rock with good elevation as to give him a good view of everything. He had been sunbathing but as soon as the scent of the Predator wafted across his nose, he was on his feet and growling, looking everywhere for the threat. Dawn, meanwhile, was oblivious to the new development and continued to splash about, throwing mudballs at birds and making a general mess out of herself.

An hour ticked by and Cujo eventually stood down, confused but still wary. The Predator was around somewhere but he couldn't pinpoint where. Frustrated, the hound flopped down and took a short nap, deciding to wait the alien out.

About thirty minutes later, Cujo tired of napping and decided to hunt. Barking at Dawn, he waited for her to join him and set off to their hunting grounds, only a couple of kilometers away.

Immediately, he picked a target out of a small herd of buffalo and left Dawn to her own devices.

After a couple of minutes of watching Cujo, the child crept after her own target. A lone antelope that grazed in a patch of trees not far from the buffalo herd. Using everything the hellhound had taught her, she got upwind of the beast and slunk towards it, low and auspicious. Not having the assets to take down her prey as efficiently as Cujo she opted for injuring it and chasing it until it winded itself.

In fact, it wasn't long before she was chasing the antelope. While it was difficult to keep up with the speed of the grazer, Dawn was more than practiced after having run after Cujo so many times during his own hunts. Her stamina had increased as well as her speed but she had to be careful all the same. Too much running and she would tire before the antelope... just enough running and the antelope would slow enough to were is was now vulnerable to attack.

Having chased the beast a good ways away, she sat hidden in a patch of long grass watching the beast as it struggled to continue. Picking up a good sized rock, she threw it hard and fast at one of the hind legs and watched with satisfaction as the bone snapped. Startled, the antelope jumped and sprung forward, running full speed away with Dawn hot on its heels.

It took a while to wind but Dawn was patient. Patience was often rewarding as Cujo had taught her.

However, while she sat in the shade, waiting for the antelope to pass by, an unknown presence tickled at her senses and she instantly scowled at the feeling. Cujo had taught her to scent the air and feel for changes in the atmosphere, something she was still learning to perfect but knew how to do well enough. This presence, however, didn't feel dangerous, merely inquisitive and simply _there_. It kept at the very edge of her senses, just out of reach and preventing her from pinpointing its exact location.

Distracted, Dawn almost didn't notice the antelope creeping away and for a split second fought with herself. Her curiosity burned and her three-year-old mind begged and pleaded to find the more _interesting_ presence and abandon the tedious hunt. Cujo's phantom bark reverberated through her head and the toddler winced. She was supposed to be _hunting_.

Strange otherworldly presences came second to the hunt.

So she continued to shadow the antelope, just managing to keep the grazer in sight and hide her scent from it. Cujo had taught her how to herd and follow; keeping prey on the move and unable to catch their breath, panic swimming beneath the surface and giving way to brash decisions that would end in the favor of its predator. It was one of the only tactics that worked in Dawn's favor. Her stamina was phenomenal for a child her age and her speed uncanny but she had nothing on the graceful antelope that was built to fly across the savannah plain, far from danger.

So this particular hunt called for caution as well as strategy. She would shadow the antelope, calculating when she would reveal her scent and presence to keep the buck on the move but at the same time, keeping it relatively calm enough not to take full flight. If she failed this part, she would undoubtedly lose her prey, unable to compete with its greater speed. She didn't want to return empty handed but knew she was in a precarious situation.

She still had to land a fatal hit on the buck or she'd be chasing it forever. And getting close enough for such an action was often the most difficult part of the hunt, one she was still having trouble with. This would all be ten times easier if she were a hellhound, with strong limbs and a massive maw of jagged teeth. But no, she was human and merely a three-year-old. A vicious _and_ stubborn three-year-old but still, a child all the same.

Well over an hour later, the antelope, at last, stopped at a watering pool, trembling and dehydrated.

Dawn smirked. Finally, a chance had presented itself.

Crawling on all fours, knee's off the ground and hindquarters in the air, she slunk forward, cautious and leery. One wrong move and the hunt was lost. Dawn was drained and struggling to keep her harsh breathing under control. She had to get his kill.

However, just before she could spring at the oblivious buck, a silver glint flashed before her eyes and suddenly the antelope was dead. A long metal rod stuck up out of the carcass, impaling the deer in its vital regions. Dawn had frozen, just a hairbreadth away from pouncing and felt her breath catch.

What just happened? What was that stick-thing and where had it come from? Where anymore sticks going to come whooshing through the air at her?

Staying her ground, she sat still and silent, merely observing the metal rod and keeping her senses on high alert. Aside from that strange Whatever-It-Was presence that hadn't left her, she couldn't sense anything weird. Maybe it was from Whatever-It-Was... but Whatever-It-Was didn't smell dangerous. Just there and watching.

Annoyed and beyond curious than what was probably healthy, she slunk from her cover with measured caution. Approaching the strange stick-thing, she marveled at how small and smooth it looked. It wasn't a normal stick, nothing that she'd ever seen and somehow she doubted it came from any tree. It didn't even look wooden; it was a dark polished silver, narrow and cylindrical in shape. It took a couple of deep breaths and another cautionary sweep of the watering hole to work the courage up to touch it. When she did, she found the material smooth to the touch and cold. Closing her tiny fist around the stick, she yanked it from the carcass with one short tug. It was tipped; a pointed, flat end with small ridges on either side.

The three-year-old inspected the weapon for a while longer before deciding to test it out. Eagerly, she thrust the pointy end into the soft flesh of the antelope's neck and watched with morbid interest as the tip effortlessly pierced the skin, blood spurting up and squirting her legs.

'' I like,'' the enraptured toddler growled out, a savage light in her eyes. She could hunt with this thing! Finally, she had a way to kill her prey without bludgeoning it to death with a rock.

Feeling powerful and opportunist, she immediately set to work in finding some unlucky prey. Something else had killed her antelope and she no longer had any interest in bringing it home. Cujo had strictly taught her that someone else's kill, was some else's kill, not theirs. They weren't thieves or scavengers. They hunted their own food; only lesser predators stole from one another.

So it was fortunate that she ran into a flock of flightless savannah birds; covered in dull brown feathers with long bills and legs but puny wings. They were roughly her size, the males even taller and the females with fuzzy plumes on their heads.

Picking out a decent sized male, sidled through the grass, just behind her prey. Having sensed her, the male squawked in warning to his flock but without a scent or predator in sight to panic about, the flock merely crept further into the high grass, nervous but otherwise unsure. Disregarding the rest of the flock, she focused on the male, raising her weapon and thrusting.

To her surprise and annoyance, the stick-thing flew from her fingers, glancing off the bird and only scraping a few feathers from him. Screeching, the bird hobbled away on spindly legs and she hastily retrieved her sharp-stick. It was lighter than expected, balanced but lighter than a normal wooden stick her size and her grip had been too lax.

Correcting herself, she ran at the bird with a piercing cry and once again, stabbed at the bird. This time, the tip plunged into the bird's side, lodging itself there but not deep enough to kill it. Further irritated her sharp-stick hadn't immediately killed the bird like it had the antelope, she roared angrily and abandoned the stick in favor of leaping onto the bird.

It was short tussel and Dawn and the bird crashed to the ground, the toddler on top with her hands wrapped around the birds long throat, wringing the life from it.

Another male from the flock then charged her, as the main flock fled and the child soon found a sharp bill snapping at her face. Dodging, she rolled off of her prey and to her feet, scrambling for a rock and throwing the stone at the male's head. She missed by a mile but had successfully cowed the bird for it held its position for a few moments, suddenly unsure about the strange predator that attacked its flock-brother.

Snarling, she circled the bird on her hands, rear in the air and poised to spring. Dirt was stinging her eyes and she grunted in pain, forcing herself to focus on the fight. Her attention then turned to her sharp-stick laying on the ground, having been dislodged in the flurry. One last glance at the other male and she dove for the weapon, ducking just under the sharp bill that plunged towards her neck and spinning around, stick in hand and striking the bird across the face.

A sharp caw of agony tore from the bird and she grinned, feral and full of malice as she plunged her stick deep into its breast. With one last gurgle, the bird toppled to the ground, lifeless and she grabbed her sharp-stick up once more, whirling around to bring the stick whistling down upon her original prey, neatly severing the narrow neck from the head, ending its pitiful life.

Panting, she backed away from her kills, adrenaline still pumping through her veins and the battle-high fresh in her mind. Raising her sharp-stick to the sky, she let out a deep bellow, her lungs eructating all air in favor of letting the whole the savanna know what she'd done, that she was strong and that she was dominate.

She was a hunter, a predator... and she wanted everything to know it.

* * *

Nrak'ytara watched the Ooman pup scream into the evening atmosphere with a gusto that put many of his own species' pups to shame. A lot of what he had already witnessed put Yautja pups to shame.

The stalking, the chasing, the stamina... the _patience_. Never in Nrak'ytara's long life had he heard of or seen a patient pup. Yautja pups were impulsive and prone to making more noise than he'd _ever_ seen this Ooman make. Much potential rested within the savage little Ooman female; more than he'd ever seen in one of his own kind's pups.

Chuffing quietly in a dismissive way, he shook his head, tresses slapping against his bare shoulders. She had a long way to go and much could go wrong before she was ready for anything substantial.

However, Nrak'ytara was patient. He could wait and hunting was all about waiting for the right moment, the perfect moment to strike. It was the thrill of battle and the hunt that every Yautja craved and he was no different. He was, after all, a hunter... born and bred.

* * *

 **End Notes** : Lots of questions? Need answers? Let me help _a_ _bit_.

I only wanted a small exert from the Predator to keep his role in this ambiguous but to also give you a tiny glimpse on the inside so you can formulate your own theories. As for his involvement, that right there is extensive, to say the least. But what's his goal and how much more involvement is he going to have? That's up to you to answer and for me to eventually reveal.

Another thing, in regards to Dawn being a three-year-old savage, this is all entirely plausible. Kids are little savages who are only _not_ -savages because their parents teach and guide them constantly. Left to their own devices, we get some disturbing results. Dawn is no exception especially since she's being raised by a hellhound on a completely different planet from Earth. She's a smart little girl but without civility, she's resorting to more primal characteristics. An interesting concept I'm having fun with as you can see.

Also, I know someone is going to point out how having a purely meat-based diet isn't healthy and blah, blah, blah. Dawn's biology is obviously different. I pointed this out several times in the chapter if you want to go and check. She isn't a normal three-year-old. She's never going to be normal throughout this whole story... not if the Yautja have anything to say about it.

Still, have questions? Guess and come up with your own assumptions and theories! I absolutely and positively love reading your reviews! They make my day and inspire me to write more. By the way, _900 reads_! Whoa, seriously? That's insane! Thank you so much to every that has followed, favorited and reviewed! You guys are the absolute best! I'm also going to start replying to and answering reviews now cause you guys are just that awesome!

Pat yourself on the back, you rock!

Alright, enough from me! Bye and thanks for reading! :D


	4. Chapter 3

**Rating** : M for violence/gore, strong language, adult themes and more. Read at your own discretion.

 **Summary** : Royce once promised Isabelle he'd find them a way home… but nine months later, he's holding his infant daughter, tears staining his cheeks. He's determined to protect her no matter what but things take an interesting turn when the Yautja learn there's an Ooman pup on the loose.

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own the Predators/Aliens universe, all rights belong to Fox and all the respective parties. Also, keep in mind this story is unbetaed and while I preview and edit everything to the best of my abilities, I cannot possibly account for everything. This is also my first fanfic, so go easy on me! :)

 **Additional Notes** : I am so sorry for the what... 3-4 month wait? It was certainly not within my intentions for such a thing to occur but my personal laptop broke down and I had/have some health issues. At the moment I am struggling to find a new laptop to purchase as well as battling severe allergies that have me taking days off of work. Nevertheless, here is another chapter and I will hopefully get the next one out sooner. I have a friend who is letting me write on their laptop and I see them every couple of days. Many thanks to them and of course, everyone that has read and supported my story so far! You guys are amazing and without you all I would most likely have dropped this story after the 1st chapter.

 _So without further adieu, here is the 3rd chapter!_

* * *

 **Half a Year Ago...**

When Royce found Isabelle, it was if his heart had been pierced by one thousand bullets.

It seemed like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs and the shadows of death lingered in the edges of his vision threatening to overwhelm him. A chasm had opened up in his chest; so great he felt as if he'd been physically split open.

As he staggered back, lost his footing and clumsily fell backward, he could not contain the howl of anguish that tore through him. A sound of raw agony and remorse ripped through the air and everything within half a mile stilled for no one had ever heard a noise so wretched...

With hands fisting the grass, he screamed his lungs out and although no tears fell, the chasm in his chest only widened and the darkness within grew, greedily clambering into every nook and cranny of Royce's mind.

At that moment he embodied the very aspect of total and utter misery.

And then came the hate.

 _Why?_ A tiny voice inside him asked, sounding much like his missing little girl, _why did they kill her?_ What threat was Isabelle to them? What pleasure could those monsters possibly derive from murdering a defenseless woman? Was there _any_ reason at all?

No, no reason could justify the carnage laying in front of him. No rationale in the entire fucking galaxy could explain this...

All that was left was the burning anger and grief from within the chasm inside him. _How dare they_ , he thought viciously, picking himself up and clutching his spear until his knuckles turned white, _how dare they take her from me! As if no punishment will come to them..._

The darkness in his mind cackled evilly as Royce's hollow eyes surveyed the scene for any sign of the culprit or Dawn.

 _Dawn_.

Either the murderer had killed his baby girl too or somehow she had gotten away. Perhaps she was hiding somewhere? Afraid and all alone, waiting for her daddy to find and save her?

Although his heart bled, he dared not call out for her in case the monster was still lurking somewhere close. If they still loitered in the surrounding area, they would have heard his screaming, so calling out wouldn't do him any more favors.

With one last look at the butchered remains of what used to be the woman he loved, he turned away and began searching the area for clues.

It became disgustingly obvious that Isabelle's killer had gone with the _up, close and personal_ method and made as big a mess as possible. There was blood, rotting human remains and clear evidence of a struggle. The body had been left laying on the jungle floor instead of hung in a tree as was the usual practice of the Predators. That meant one of two things, the monster Royce hunted cared not for habit or it had been interrupted.

The body was half skinned from the torso down meaning it was most definitely the latter and that meant something had either physically halted the task or captured its attention.

 _It could have left to go after Dawn_ , Royce realized with growing dread.

Hastening his search he headed back to the cave, where he'd originally arrived at right before he had discovered his family hadn't been there for days. The cave was untouched and there was no evidence that a Predator had gone through anything; which meant it had ambushed Isabelle outside of the cave. It was unlikely Dawn was anywhere near the cave or he would have seen recent tracks or evidence of her presence.

Along with Dawn's current location, another mystery presented itself; where the fuck was Cujo?

He'd trained that damned mutt for two whole years and what good had it done? Isabelle was dead, again, and Dawn was missing until proved otherwise.

 _So fucking much for training a guard dog_ , he thought bitterly as he made his way out of the cave and back to the murder site.

The next few hours were filled with quiet stalking and careful listening as Royce crept through the jungle looking for tracks and keeping an eye out for any sign of Dawn. Once in a while, he would find half a track or two of muddy hellhound footprints. Going by the direction and infrequency, Royce would guess that Cujo had been heading away from home and quickly, making leaps and bounds with those powerful back haunches of his. It made him wonder if the alien dog had simply run away at the first sign of danger and the very thought incensed him enough to punch a tree.

 _Fuck._

As Royce kept going, night fell and in the cloak of darkness, he was able to travel quicker. His footsteps were silent as he moved over and around things with practiced ease, as to not disturb the stillness of the night. He paced himself and stopped briefly every two to three hours for a water break and to catch his breath. He still hadn't found any sign of Dawn and although Cujo's tracks were getting more frequent and easier to track, they seemed to go on forever.

 _That blasted hound really did run away_ , he thought scathingly, _if I ever see that cur again, I'm gonna kill it._

His rage gave him an energy boost for the next several hours until dawn broke and the jungle was bathed in sunlight once more. Royce was forced to slow his pace and keep to the thicker and denser parts of the jungle to avoid being seen or tracked easily. He still didn't know where his wife's killer was but for now, it wasn't a priority. By his estimations, Isabelle had been killed three to four days before his return which meant the Predator responsible was presumably nowhere within the vicinity.

The matter of finding Dawn came first and as soon as he found her, he would never let her out of his sight again.

 _I never should have gone on that damn trip_ , he knew, regret poisoning his thoughts, _if I had been with my family, where I belonged... none of this would have happened. Its all my fault... Isabelle's death is my fault._

The sorrow in his heart made him come to a complete stop.

It was his fault, wasn't it. His family was dead. How could Dawn survive by herself anyway? It was likely Royce would never find her body; being forever lost in the wilderness or merely dragged away and eaten by wild animals. The mere thought of it caused bile to rise in his throat and he bent over coughing and hacking up they dried jerky he'd eaten on his last break.

Wiping his mouth, he forced himself to carry on. His eyes held a dead look to them but in his stride was unwavering determination. He would find Dawn. There was no other option.

And if she was dead... fuck it, he'd put a bullet in his mouth. There was no reason to live without his family... at least, not anymore.

* * *

 **A Few Weeks Later...**

Royce was beginning to lose hope.

He'd lost Cujo's tracks and for the last two days, had been wandering aimlessly throughout a forest that bordered a rolling golden-grassed savanna. He had grown weary and felt mentally ill at the thought of continuing his futile search _and_ abandoning his daughter.

There had been no sign of her that he'd found while tracking Cujo and he was beginning to hallucinate Predators in the treetops. He would see them out of the corners of his eyes but they'd vanish into nothing the minute he turned his head. He never heard them nor saw any sign of them. The phantoms were just there... haunting him and reminding him he was nothing but prey to be looked down upon and hunted.

Sinking to his knee's by a trickling stream, he washed his face and drank. His beard was getting longer and in the way, meaning he'd have to shave it off sometime soon. He didn't have the energy for it but it was starting to irritate him, making his skin itch and getting twigs and leaves caught in it.

Isabelle had often joked he looked manlier with a beard and he'd shot back with a, _''All men look more manly with a beard''_ and then in an afterthought, _''They aren't_ _practical_ _''_. She'd then challenged him to maintain a beard for a full year without one complaint. He hadn't even lasted three months before he had broke down and scraped it all off whilst cursing up a storm as Isabelle giggled behind him with Dawn in her arms.

The memory opened up an aching wound inside him and it bled into his state of mind until he just couldn't take it anymore. Rearing up, he tore his knife out of its sheath and began hacking away at his face. He felt no pain except an occasional sting or scrape as he destroyed his beard and probably took off two layers of his skin along with it.

By the time he was finished, blood was streaming down his cheeks and neck. Numbly, he stooped to clean his blade and washed his face, watching with dull fascination as his blood was swept downstream.

It was then he caught sight of a familiar hulking figure behind him and he whirled around, half expecting it to disappear like normal.

It didn't.

The Predator stood, leaned up against a tree, head cocked and mask angled towards him. It's body language told him it had been there for some time even though his mind screamed there was no way something that huge had crept up on him and had been watching him for over twenty minutes. Yet, the massive alien was indeed relaxed and currently in a state of observation, silently regarding him through its lifeless metal mask. It's massive tree-trunk thick arms were folded across it's chest in a familiar human gesture and the tilt to its head mimicked curiosity. The shoulder cannon currently had its three little red dots settled directly on Royce's chest, hovering with lethal intent. In contrast to Royce, the alien looked relaxed but alert and ready for the man to make a move. It made Royce grit his teeth to know the giant hunter apparently didn't even consider him a threat.

Sadly enough, it was right. Royce was outgunned and standing there like a deer caught in the headlights, bleeding profusely from his face by self-inflicted wounds with nothing but a knife in hand. He'd never have enough time to draw his gun or make an escape before the cannon disintegrated him in seconds...

Royce heaved a quiet sigh as he lowered his knife and gave the Predator a menacing warning glare.

Just then the sudden familiarity hit him and he gasped, staring at the alien with renewed caution and interest. The height, the sheer size, the lack of hostility... it was the same Predator that had saved Isabelle two years ago! Even the crude markings on it's mask were the same!

Mouth slightly ajar, he simply stared the colossal monster with a stupified expression, unable to come up with any reaction other than gaping.

It couldn't be responsible for Isabelle's murder, could it? This particular Predator had never tried to attack him _or_ given him any reason to do so, in fact, he had saved the lives of his wife and child and then simply let them be. Royce still hadn't figured out just _how_ the alien had brought his wife back to life and now that he was staring the mammoth being in the mask, he couldn't bring himself to ask.

Yet despite it all, what if he really was staring at Isabelle's killer? What if it had all been some sort of convoluted ploy and this creature really was responsible for the deaths of his wife and baby girl? Weren't all Predators the same? A giant killing machine that hunted for sport and killed indiscriminately until nothing was left?

The red haze of undiluted rage and hurt slammed into Royce and he bellowed, blinding charging at the monster with murder in his eyes.

The next thing he knew he was on his back with the wind knocked out of him. His chest was smoking as if he'd just been hit with a fireball. The smell of his own smoldering flesh was nauseating and the searing pain was almost unbearable. That motherfucker had shot him... shot him but oddly enough, hadn't killed him.

While he writhed on the ground in agony, the Predator was busy growling and clicking at him in a way he'd never heard. The clicks were sharp and distinguished between the occasional throaty growl and it took Royce a full two minutes to realize the bastard was speaking to him. Royce had known the alien hunters communicated with each other via a series of clicks they made with their mandibles and he'd been the cause of growling before but never before had the two been combined to form a set of foreign sounds that mirrored an actual language.

The fact the titan had spoken to him was groundbreaking enough and then there was the fact Royce had been shot by the canon and lived.

As he managed to sit up with no small amount of groaning and huffing in pain, he immediately noticed the Predator hadn't moved an inch and was now rumbling rhythmically at him. It's shoulders shook and it's massive chest seemed to vibrate as a rumbling baritone sounded from deep within.

 _Sonuvabitch is laughing at me_ , Royce finally surmised, expression betraying his utter shock.

However, when he struggled up to find his bearings once more, the rumbling ceased abruptly. The mask dipped towards him, no doubt analyzing him as the canon ticked and whirled, the three little dots settling on Royce's chest once more.

Another round of clicking and growling instinctively told Royce that he was being warned 'not to try that again'. Royce glared back at the Predator but sighed as he finally made to stand and glanced down at his smoking chest with a look of incredulity.

The canon blast had all but destroyed his hide-leather shirt and the bulletproof vest he had been wearing and his chest was now covered in a giant blossoming second-degree burn. The pain was still ripe and he felt lightheaded from just standing up; Royce having to stubbornly remind himself he'd been through worse. The impact from the blast hadn't helped either and his lungs and ribs throbbed as a result.

 _Asshole gave me a warning shot_ , he thought and then took a step back, trying to figure out the massive alien's goal. The Predator didn't seem interested in killing him or he would've done Royce in a long time ago and certainly wouldn't have bothered with a warning shot. In addition, despite Royce's earlier aggression, it still hadn't gauged him as a threat yet.

So what did it want?

Royce had zero experience with a situation like this and the beginnings of anxiety were starting to eat at him. Every Predator he and every one of his men had come into contact with had undoubtedly wanted to kill them; from stalking and chasing, to hunting and slaughtering them one by one... if it was one thing that remained constant with each Predator, it was the desire to hunt and kill humans.

So who gave this fuckface of an alien the go-ahead to break the mold and go rogue? Not Royce, that's for damn sure.

'' Whaddya want?'' Royce asked him, unable to keep the slight tremor from his voice as he boldly met the Predator's stare.

The alien cocked his head again and then shrugged. Royce frowned at the distinctly human gesture and waved a hand towards it,'' You don't seem interested in wearing my skull as a decoration so what do you want?''

Pushing off the tree, the Predator suddenly stalked towards him causing Royce to start backing up in a panic. The colossus stopped and trilled inquisitively at him which in turn made Royce halt. Royce shook his head and shot the Predator another incredulous look hoping to convey the fact he had no fucking idea what this giant alien expected from him.

'' Not... hurt you,'' the Predator spoke suddenly and Royce gaped at him.

No fucking way... this Predator spoke English?! Royce was almost ninety percent sure he was hallucinating the whole thing by now and had no clue what to do now expect pinch himself which would be pointless because his facial wounds stung and his chest still throbbed.

Movement from the Predator caught his attention once more as the mammoth being started tapping away at the computer on his right gauntlet. A green-lit holographic map lit up above the gauntlet and the Predator motioned for Royce to come forward.

Hesitating briefly because who wouldn't, Royce finally approached and stared at the Predator and then the map.

'' Its a map of the entire fucking planet,'' he breathed in awe despite himself. The flickering shamrock green map started zooming in on their location as the Predator pressed more buttons and Royce caught sight of several blue and red blips all signaling specific locations. Most of the blips were moving around which Royce then pointed out.

'' What do those red and blue dots mean? Are they animals?'' he asked pensively, wondering if he'd receive a reply.

'' Red pyode-amedha, blue Yautja,'' the Predator answered him in it's gruff tone, then zoomed in on it and Royce's location.

Royce stared at the Predator for about six seconds before another question popped into his mind. '' What the fuck is pie-ode whatever and the hell is a Yautja?'' he questioned with a scowl. He was certain he'd heard the words 'red' and 'blue' but the other two were unfamiliar.

With a wave of it's left clawed hand, it gestured to Royce and then grunted,'' Pyode-amedha, Ooman,'' and then gestured to itself,'' Yautja.''

So Predators were Yautja, whatever the fuck that was? The name of their race perhaps? And 'pyode amedha' apparently meant human because 'ooman' sounded suspiciously similar to human. _Something like that at least_ , Royce surmised, still uncertain about it all.

'' Wait, so the red is humans!?'' he demanded suddenly, ignoring the pointed look the Predator gave him and continued,'' I need to see the red again!''

Right now the map was settled on Royce and the Yautja's position, a single red and gold dot which he presumed was color specific to the Predator in front of him. However, if the massive alien had the locations of humans logged in it's map, it might be able to show where Dawn was!

When he tried to touch the gauntlet, the Predator gave him what must have passed for nothing more than 'swat' in Yautja-land but for Royce he might as well have been sucker-punched in the shoulder. He went stumbling backward and landed on his rear and was just about to draw his handgun when the bastard started laughing at him again.

'' Ki'cte, Ooman,'' the Predator told Royce as if the man understood a word it said.

'' What the fuck does that mean?!'' Royce shot back, not giving a damn if he was shot by the cannon again and aggravated beyond reason,'' If you can speak English, speak fucking English. I don't understand a word you say otherwise! And I still don't know what you want from me!''

He should have checked himself before he started screaming bloody murder at _Death-on-two-legs_ but in his defense, he had gone days without a proper eight hours of sleep and was running on little more than slivers of dried jerky. He was bound to snap and snap he did.

'' What the fuck do want from me, huh? I got nothing, pal! You killed my wife and took my daughter from me so I got nothing left! If you're going to kill me then just do it already! Quit playing mind games, you big pussy!'' Royce roared uncontrollably, emotions all over the place.

When he finished his rant, he stood there panting, chest heaving and rivets of blood still running down his face. He must have looked nothing short of insane but he couldn't bring himself to care. He was done and this hulking ass-kicker of a Pred had destroyed any semblance of composure he had left.

He fully expected to be decapitated for his outburst or at the very least, blasted again but as seconds ticked by, nothing happened.

When he finally looked up, he found the titan hadn't reacted in the slightest to his outburst and stood serenely as he'd left it, mask tilted once more and gauntlet raised with the map still visible.

'' Anything phase you?'' he asked dumbly, still reeling from the fact he'd had a tantrum in front of a seven-foot alien and hadn't been gutted on the spot.

'' H'ko.'' Was the only answer Royce received who in turn shook his head and tried to reign in his temper. He was probably on the last legs of this Yautja's patience, he just knew it and sooner or later, the bastard would be trying to take his head off.

'' Hulij-bpe Ooman, come,'' the Predator motioned for Royce to come forward and the pointed at an area on the map, '' Go. More Oomans.''

Royce frowned and squinted at the map, realizing the location had been changed and he was now staring at a mass of squirming red dots that looked suspiciously like ants on an ant-hill, a large bump on the terrain that Royce assumed was a mountain. The more he stared at it, the more he started to make out landmarks and even Noland's former hideout. The mess of red blips seemed to be circulated around the abandoned alien drill site and Royce instinctively started mapping out a route in his head.

He snapped out of his thoughts when the map suddenly vanished and the Predator began walking away. '' Wait, what about my daughter?'' he yelled, storming after the massive alien.

The Predator ignored him and the camouflage was initiated as Royce soon lost sight of the behemoth. Irritated, he could find no tracks nor trace of the Yautja and as a result, he resorted to punching trees again.

'' Asshole!'' he bellowed and then after some thought, reluctantly added,'' Thanks.''

Without another word, he retrieved his fallen knife and his gear and began his trek.

There was a chance, Dawn had been picked up by some surviving humans and the thought gave him little comfort. He trusted no one to take care of his little girl except himself and after the Davenport slaughter, couldn't bring himself to trust his fellow man anymore.

He would continue his search for Dawn but for the moment, he headed towards Noland's former hideout, hoping to not only find Dawn but perhaps some help. As much as it did irritate him to rely on others, he had no other choice. The possibility Dawn was with them or at least in the area was too high to ignore.

Isabelle always did try to believe in others and although Royce kept even his closest buddies at arm's length, he could force himself to interact with other people again. After all, they all had one thing in common...

They were prisoners of the Predators and surviving was their goal.

* * *

 **Several Weeks Earlier... (following the same time span as the above)**

Nrak'ytara hadn't intended on following the Ooman male at first.

As the Yautja sat crouched on a branch of one of the larger jungle tree's, his mask followed the movements of a single Ooman that walked below him. The male had yet to sense Nrak'ytara's presence and by the looks of things, wasn't about to anytime soon. Most Oomans went unaware they were being watched, he had noticed in his years hunting them; it was if they had no sense of caution when they didn't think they were in any immediate danger. Such a mistake usually led to getting annihilated by a plasmacaster or mowed down by a chakt-ra, a disc-thrower.

Watching this Ooman male, he did note that this one was at least careful with it's feet and the tracks it left behind. Although it wouldn't stop a Blooded warrior from tracking him regardless, at least this male was one step ahead of the rest of it's race.

When the male found the remains of his mate, the sound that ripped from it's throat shook even Nrak'ytara as he stilled and listened intently to the despairing cry of remorse and anguish. He wasn't at all surprised by the raw emotion in the wail and he did share a slight feeling of regret, seeing as the female's death was most unfortunate and unnecessary.

While he had been aware of a fellow Yautja stalking the female Ooman and her pup, he hadn't thought the Blooded would take action and kill the female; especially in such a gruesome manner. The warrior had taken his time and tortured the female, unaware of the pup and her timely escape with the Yauthound.

Such butchery would most likely go unnoticed by the rest of the hunters that kept to the hunting preserve and thus no punishment would be given for the Blooded's crime. If another warrior had witnessed his crimes against the defenseless Ooman female, he would be tried and most likely banished; to be hunted down by Arbitrators. That was if his clan was any normal functioning clan with stability and laws.

However, since no other hunter had witnessed it aside from Nrak'ytara and he knew his testimony, no matter how concrete, would most likely be dismissed by the Council and of course the fact that disemboweling females, Ooman or not, was not considered a crime, the Blooded warrior would get away with his crimes. As irritating as it was, it mattered little to Nrak'ytara; the female's death could ultimately prove useful at a later date once the pup was old enough to understand it.

Attention returning to the Ooman male, he found it tromping around looking for clues, no doubt of the killer and his missing pup. The male's sense of duty was admirable to say the least but Nrak'ytara had no intention of reuniting the male with his pup.

His plan was unfolding nicely despite the recent turn of events and now that the male had returned, it unconsciously threatened Nrak'ytara's careful planning. The Ooman would have to be relocated to a more farther and more profitable location... as far away from the pup as possible.

So he followed the male for the next several weeks.

The male mourned along the way and Nrak'ytara found the Ooman's strange sleep-fits to be most intriguing.

Although the male rested very briefly and never a proper rotation long, his slumber was often abruptly interrupted when the Ooman started thrashing and calling out. Nrak'ytara supposed the male cried out for his dead mate, perhaps seeing her at Cetanu's side and trying to summon her back to him. However miserable the male seemed to be, his determination was unshakable even when he lost the trail of the Yauthound he had been so feverishly tracking.

During the next couple of days, the Ooman literally wandered in circles.

Nrak'ytara was nonplussed to find the male had lost it's sense of direction and bearings all in one day. It hadn't been eating, hydrating or sleeping correctly hence the erratic behavior wasn't all that surprising.

It also amused him to no end that apparently the Ooman was treating him as some sort of mass hallucination. Nrak'ytara had intended to let the Ooman catch glimpses of him as to better prepare him for a direct meeting between them. Unsurprisingly, the male had gotten adequately close to his pup's location and was nearly a mile from her.

Thus it was now time to redirect the Ooman elsewhere.

However, Nrak'ytara had not been expecting to be treated as an illusion or some sort of bhu'ja. The male would stare at him out of the corners of his eyes and remain half-aware of him until he would turn fully and Nrak'ytara couldn't help but vanish, further insinuating that the male was being haunted or stalked by bhu'jas.

It was until the male stopped to rest at a stream that Nrak'ytara put an end to his mischief and settled himself comfortably up against a tree right behind the unassuming Ooman. He watched with little interest as the male washed briefly and then seemed to lapse into a mindless state.

Nrak'ytara was almost fully relaxed when the male did the unthinkable and pulled out it's knife before starting to saw away at it's own face. Nrak'ytara had nearly shot the male for pulling out the dagger before realizing the man had no idea he was there and was momentarily occupied with cutting off it's own face.

His plasmacaster remained trained on the Ooman just in case even as Nrak'ytara's incredulity and utter confusion rose to towering levels. What the pauk was this crazy Ooman doing and why? Had it's mind finally snapped under the pressure and was it trying to kill itself now? If so, why didn't it just stab itself in the chest or cut it's throat? Why slash it's own face? What was _wrong_ with this Ooman?

Eventually, the Ooman stopped just short of sheering it's own nose off and finally seemed to notice the Yautja behind him.

Nrak'ytara tensed ever so slightly, waiting for the Ooman to charge or reach for another weapon, possibly the projectile caster on it's hip.

The two stared at each other and then the male lowered his knife only to suddenly tense back up and take a step back. The Ooman seemed unsure how to react, eyes sweeping up and down Nrak'ytara's form most likely trying to figure out it's chance of survival.

When the Ooman let out a furious bellow and charged, Nrak'ytara didn't hesitate to shoot him.

As the Ooman went flying backward and lay on the ground, groaning and writhing in pain, Nrak'ytara was thankful he had remembered to turn the charge of his plasmacaster down. Otherwise, he would have incinerated the Ooman on the spot and that wouldn't do.

'' Rediculous Ooman,'' he drawled in his native language, still reclining against the tree,'' How many more poor decisions are you going to make?''

As the seemed to realize, no he was not dead and that Nrak'ytara had no intentions of killing him, a bit of the fire in his eye's dimmed and he seemed to struggle with himself. Nrak'ytara couldn't help the rumbling laugh that built in his chest, finding the entire situation unlike anything he'd ever experienced before.

As the Ooman struggled to it's feet and glared at him, Nrak'ytara rattled out a warning that if the male tried charging again, his actions would be met with the same result. The Ooman stared at him with a mixed look of awe and confusion as if he had never been spoken to before and didn't know how to feel about it. It made Nrak'ytara wonder how Ooman's perceived his kind, whether Yautja were just giant primitive killers to the Ooman's. It was mildly insulting to be regarded as _primitive_ by a race that was exclusive to only one planet and had yet to invest in advanced space travel whereas his own kind was far more technologically advanced and was ubiquitous in terms of space colonization.

'' Whaddya want?'' the male finally spoke, nervous and still angry from earlier.

Chuffing gently but not enough for the Ooman to hear, Nrak'ytara shrugged and tilted his head. He hadn't understood the male's words, the slang going over his head but understood the general meaning. However, he wasn't about to indulge this Ooman so he shrugged the inquiry away and started towards the male. The Ooman immediately backpedaled and Nrak'ytara stopped.

He assured the Ooman he meant no harm although he was sure his assurance went completely ignored, he got straight to the point of this altercation. Activating the mapping system on his gauntlet, he ignited the hologram and started calibrating it to find his exact position.

Attention captured, the Ooman immediately started speaking, words coming out in rapid succession, almost too quick for Nrak'ytara to follow. He did understand the man's interest in the colored dots on the map and tried to explain it to him in an effort to appease the Ooman's growing curiosity. Instead, he recieved more questions, some he didn't understand and then the Ooman became angry and indignant when Nrak'ytara didn't respond with the answers he wanted.

Then the stupid thing tried to touch his gantlet.

A quick swat knocked the male away but then it also lost it's balance and toppled over. Nrak'ytara froze and then started laughing at the sheer absurdity of the situation. This Ooman was proving to be a handful and he vaguely wondered if the pup would be as troublesome as her sire when she grew up. He had to admit he was looking forward to the possibility, the idea of a scared or subservient female was distasteful and wouldn't go well with his plans in the slightest. The more rebellious and challenging, the better.

'' Ki'cte, Ooman,'' he rumbled as he regarded the seething male once more. As per usual, the male surprised him by suddenly launching into a verbal tirade of words as it stood there and screamed it's puny lungs out at him.

Yet again, most of what was said went over his head but he _did_ manage to catch the just of the unexpected fury. The Ooman was frustrated and furious and letting him know it. He also was apparently asking Nrak'ytara to kill him which made no sense but as far as the Yautja's grasp of the Ooman language went, that is what it came across as. He also understood that the male was gravely insulting him and making far too many demands. As far as tantrums went, this one reminded him of a grumpy pup's tantrum before it's dam either comforted it or smacked it upside the head.

Eventually, the rage subsided and the Ooman just stared at him before asking,'' Anything phase you?''

Nrak'ytara considered the question and then answered,'' H'ko,'' and gestured for the Ooman to come forward once more. Nrak'ytara was neither old nor young and in his long life he had witnessed many unexplainable events and dealt with stranger things than a crotchety Ooman. Besides, his own species weren't short on tantrums and outbursts either.

'' Hulij-bpe Ooman, look,'' Nrak'ytara finally intoned and pointed at a specific area on the map, '' Go. More Oomans.''

If the Ooman followed his directions, more time would be allotted for the pup's training and Nrak'ytara would be able to spend as much time on the planet's surface as he wanted without arousing suspicion. He suspected that his sire was already skeptical of his offspring's disappearance and he didn't feel like returning to the clan and finding out whether or not the ic'jit was lying in wait with accusations or not. The more time, the better.

Finally, the Ooman male seemed to grasp the concept Nrak'ytara was attempting to convey thus he turned off the gauntlet and prepared to leave. The Ooman hollered anxiously after him and Nrak'ytara ignored him, disappearing into the forest foliage. From what he had understood, the male was still anxious about his pup and although the aching familiarity of the situation bothered Nrak'ytara, he refused to acknowledge the Ooman's request.

He would reunite the male with his pup when she was ready and fit for the next stage of his plan. No sooner or later.

Silent and watchful, Nrak'ytara remained to see if the Ooman would follow his wishes and was pleased when the male finally headed in the desired direction, away from his pup and the savanna she lived in.

Now for the next stage of his plan.

* * *

 _ **Yautja Translations:**_

 **Pyode-** **amedha** \- soft meat/commonly used to refer to Humans.

 **Ooman** \- Yautja pronunciation of Human.

 **Ki'cte** \- enough.

 **H'ko** \- no.

 **Hulij-bpe/Hulij-bpe Ooman** \- Crazy, Crazy Human.

 **Chakt** **-** **ra** \- smart disc or disc thrower.

 **Blooded Warrior** \- a ranking achieved by surpassing one's chiva and proving themselves in a hunt/battle.

 **Chiva** \- coming of age hunt.

 **Yauthound** \- the Yautja name for the hellhound.

 **Cetanu** \- the Black Warrior and the personification of death/god or goddess of death.

 **Bhu'ja/s** \- ghost or ghosts.

 **Pauk** \- fuck.

 **Ic'jit** \- Badblood/criminal or outcast of Yautja society.


	5. Chapter 4

**Rating** : M for violence/gore, strong language, adult themes and more. Read at your own discretion.

 **Summary** : Royce once promised Isabelle he'd find them a way home… but nine months later, he's holding his infant daughter, tears staining his cheeks. He's determined to protect her no matter what but things take an interesting turn when the Yautja learn there's an Ooman pup on the loose.

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own the Predators/Aliens universe, all rights belong to Fox and all the respective parties. Also, keep in mind this story is unbetaed and while I preview and edit everything to the best of my abilities, I cannot possibly account for everything. This is also my first fanfic, so go easy on me! :)

 **Additional Notes** : _*Hides behind the sofa, waving a white flag*_ I'm horribly sorry about the hideously wait. I was busy with just about everything you can imagine, from health, family, work and random miscellaneous things... but hey, I did get myself a new laptop! So hopefully that means more updates! Yeah, so here you guys go!

* * *

 _ **Two Years Later...**_

As the sun rose and the stars retreated, Dawn awoke and the day began.

Grasping her spear, she checked her surroundings and crept along the thick branches of the tree she slept on. Cujo was down below, stretched out across the ground at the base of the tree, his great leathery flanks rising and falling slowly. Dawn watched him for a few minutes, head cocked and eyes probing as she judged the authenticity of his slumber.

Yesterday, when she had tried this, she had gotten pinned a mere twenty seconds after her feet touched the ground. The day before that boasted twelve seconds and then the day before that she hadn't even made it down the tree before getting caught.

Today, she was determined to make it thirty seconds, if not to fully escape her guardian's care.

Armed with a new escape strategy, Dawn slithered across a long branch that extended several yards from the tree, carefully making sure there were no creaks or groans, no falling leaves or snapping twigs. Every minuscule rustle of noise made her freeze and glance back at the slumbering hellhound in tense apprehension. Cujo slept lighter than an antelope in the middle of a saber-tooth tiger den and if Dawn was going to succeed in her mission, she needed to keep her calm.

Swallowing, she breathed in deep and swung herself down, dangling by one hand, her spear in the other, head tilted towards Cujo as she summoned her courage. Raising her spear arm and taking careful aim, she reared back, swinging slightly in mid-air as she launched her spear. The slim metal weapon cut through the air with deadly precision, deftly impaling her target and triggering the device. A bundle of hide scraps tied together with a vine dropped from the tree a few feet from Cujo and her guardian was on his feet in an instant.

Just as Cujo pounced on the bundle, Dawn dropped soundlessly to the ground and crept backward, keeping her feet from stirring the hatchwork ground of leaves, sticks, and pebbles. Cujo bared his teeth at the bundle, nosing it with his massive snout as he tried to puzzle out the strange package.

 _Almost there_ , Dawn thought, forcing herself to keep her cool, _just a little further—_

As if on cue, Cujo swung his head around and Dawn made a break for it.

Spinning on her heels, she leapt, the roar of an angry hellhound like an explosion behind her.

Plummeting through the air, she straightened herself as rigidly as her spear and a split-second later, her feet hit the water, her body dropping like a stone beneath the waves. Dazed, she floated lifelessly in the water, watching bubbles from her nose wobble to surface. She felt like she was suspended in mid-air, floating and flying at the same time, encased on all sides in a cold embrace.

Dawn had always liked the water. There was something serene and captivating about it. Whenever she broke through the surface, she felt like she was leaving a whole world behind in favor of one of air and earth— one less interesting than that of the deep blue. If she could swim forever, she would but even she knew she was not a creature designed with aquatic life in mind. Sure, she could float and swim but could she breathe underwater, cut through the water quickly as a fish, read the currents and navigate them as accurately as a seal? No, of course not. This is why her lungs screamed for air and her vision darkened in warning, urging her to seek the surface. Obeying her body's instincts, she lunged towards the surface, breaking through the mirror surface into the world she rightfully belonged to. Immediately, she could hear Cujo's frantic barking and snarling above her, her guardian unable to pursue her and stuck on the cliffside she had plunged from.

Twirling in the water, she waved gleefully up the hellhound and let out a reassuring yip. The hellhounds panic abated somewhat but only in that he stopped trying to find a way down the sheer drop. He did _not_ cease his barking, anger replacing worry. Dawn just splashed around playfully before swimming for the far distant shore on the other side of the lake. A destination that would take her around fifteen minutes to reach and Cujo about an hour.

Pleased with herself, she paddled serenely across the great blue expanse, feeling proud and smug of her accomplishment. Cliff-diving wasn't something she did often and the last time she had tried to cannon-ball into the deep blue, she hit a sunken tree and nearly broke her leg. Cujo hadn't let near another cliff for weeks after that and Dawn herself had thoroughly scared herself from diving off any more ledges.

Today, she had taken a risk, hoping to cleanse herself of her fear while testing the waters both literally and figuratively.

As she finally reached the bank, tiny shells and broken bits of shelf crunched underneath her weight as she hauled herself out of the water, taking with her bits of lake weed and chunks of muddy slime. Once completely out of the water, Dawn took a moment to catch her breath and enjoy the morning atmosphere.

The jungle was hot and humid. A blanket of early morning fog lay across the dense green canopies and a sprawling mist crept across the treacherous ground, hiding roots, holes and all manner of small reptiles and insects from view. The rain forest was a gigantic maze where no leaf nor tree looked the same, yet it still managed to get you turned around and lost in less than ten minutes. However, a vast river system of interlinking streams, ponds, and two massive lakes could be used to help you find your way. One need only steer clear of the saber tooth tigers that hunted along the water's edge and you might find you way out of the jungle.

Despite the danger of the rainforest, Dawn had decided from day one that this was the perfect place to explore. From sprinting through the foilage along well-worn game paths, to climbing the tallest kapok and baobab trees, swinging from the great drapery of vines and leaping over the many hidden ridges and hollows. It was a wild ride of adventure and thrill and to someone Dawn's age, it was the best and most immersive playscape ever.

However, to Cujo, her ever-present and nurturing guardian, it was a hellish nightmare of constantly losing track of her and never knowing which tree she was in. For a creature who couldn't climb and wasn't inherently curious of their surroundings but was pragmatic and favored well-placed caution over blithe adventurism, the jungle was not a favorable environment for child-rearing, especially for energetic wild monkey children like Dawn. The said hellhound was most likely galloping to her location with a speed that rivaled the fastest antelope— and at that thought, Dawn decided it was high time to get back on target.

Escaping Cujo was only part one of her mission, the second part was to retrieve her spear. There was no hunt that she did not embark on without her trusty weapon. While its origins remained unknown still, Dawn was proud of her sharp-stick. However, as of recent, the once sharp and mighty spear was letting her down lately. It was not as keen as it used to be which really cut back on its efficiency. The metallic finish was dull and grit caked the grooves and edges, making her grip faulty and unsure. Nevertheless, it was the only weapon she had and it needed to be retrieved.

Jumping back into the tepid waters of the lake, Dawn began the weary swim back to the cliff she had plunged off of.

Taking her a little longer than it did to reach the shore, she hauled herself onto a rock at the base of the cliff and peeked over her shoulder at the hazy shoreline she had left behind. She could just barely make out the bluish-grey blob that was Cujo, angerly pacing the water's edge, most likely seething on the inside at her deception.

Dawn grimaced at the sight. Once Cujo caught her, she would be in a heap of trouble, that was for sure.

Climbing the cliff face wasn't especially difficult for her. Mud provided friction and rocks and roots jutted out to provide plenty of hand and footholds. Dawn had the stamina and strength to haul herself up as well. Her daily routine was a never-ended grind of climbing and running, pushing herself to her limits and testing herself. Cujo might despair of this but to Dawn, everything was a potential challenge, one that could be overcome by a measure of steeling one's mind and meticulous training. Whether it was gaining the muscles to thrust her spear through the thick skull of a buffalo or the speed in which to chase her prey, everything required diligent training to accomplish and Dawn understood this. Her body, while only that of a five-year-olds, was lean and mean, built for speed and endurance, able to achieve far more than her peers from her homeworld. She was a gymnast, a fighter and a hunter and she looked every bit like it. Her hair was a dark raven black, a snarl of tangles and twigs that reached her collar bone and would get caught on everything. Many times, Dawn would be racing through the trees and suddenly get her head wrenched back, hair caught on some stick. Unlike her raven mane, her eyes were a bright and devious hazel that reminded her of the long savannah grass in the sun and Cujo's eyes when lightning cracked across the sky. While not as golden-brown as her eyes, her skin sported a light sunny tan that would only darken as she got older. And because baths were infrequent and usually at the end of a rough hellhound tongue, Dawn's skin was often smeared in dirt and raw in some places. She itched until she bled and sometimes no amount of itching would make the painful tickle go away. Her scalp was the same way, tangles made dragging her fingers through it almost impossible and occasionally she could even feel the sharp prick of forgotten twig rubbing against her. Sometimes, she would try to wrench and tear at the snags in her hair, ever frustrated with her rat's nest of hair but there was only so much a five-year-old girl could do to a hairdresser's worst nightmare.

Speaking of which, Dawn blew a stray lock of hair out of her face as she scrambled up the cliffside. The breeze kept blowing her hair into her face the farther she went up and once again, her frustration began to mount. She wished she had been born with a tough hide and sharp teeth and claws and no hair at all... like Cujo. Her guardian could survive effortlessly without worrying about tangles and snags, scraping the pads of his feet or getting cut by the lash of a branch as he ran by it. He was built for an environment like this. A predator, through and through.

Dawn huffed in irritation. Whatever she was, was obviously not designed to be a top predator despite her best attempts. Something with soft skin and blunt nails would never make it alone in the wilderness and it was the times when the universe liked to remind her how vulnerable and weak she was, that Dawn was happy to have Cujo mother-hening her.

Now was not one of those times, however.

As Dawn finally scaled the last ridge on the cliff and popped over the edge, she rolled onto her back and gasped for air, panting, limbs numb from exertion. Her hands were bleeding, the skin of her fingertips and palms ripped off by the rocky cliff face. Her feet were much in the same state, grit and grime packed underneath her nails while scrapes and scratches spiraled up her body. She wore no clothing, nothing to protect her delicate skin from the elements and the earth. _More scars_ , she thought numbly, _at least Cujo has scars too._

It was a chore to get to her feet and an even bigger one to climb the tree to retrieve her spear.

Sitting on a thick and sturdy branch, she reached out and grabbed the butt of the spear and tried to tug it out of the woodwork. While it was not as embedded as it might have been when it was keen and sharp, it did not come loose easily. After a few minutes of struggling, grunting and annoyed growling, Dawn finally wrenched her spear free... well, _most_ of it.

Shocked, Dawn stared at the missing tip of her spear where the pointy end was supposed to be and then at the part that was still snuggly embedded in the wood. '' No, no, no,'' she murmured, aghast at the unfortunate turn of events. How was she supposed to hunt now? There was only so much rocks would do against the dense bones and tough hide of the prey animals around here and she hadn't thrown any rocks in ages.

Furious, she threw the damaged spear to the ground and let loose a cry of rage.

For a couple of minutes, Dawn sat in silence, unsure of what to do now.

Cujo was definitely on his way back, having caught onto her ruse and now, she was without her primary weapon. The second part of her mission was inadvertently a hopeless failure but the third part was technically still achievable. She didn't need her spear for this part— it's just she never did anything _without_ it. It was the only thing she owned and it went with her everywhere. Without it, she was defenseless.

Ugh... well, best not think about it that way or she'd never accomplish her mission.

Shimming down the tree again, she cast a scathing look at the broken spear and marched off, nose in the air.

Fine!

She would be just fine on her own!

No Cujo to protect her, no spear to hunt with. Just fine!

Coming to a halt on the edge of the treeline, she cast an anxious look back at the broken weapon and hesitated.

Hmmm...

* * *

 _ **A Few Hours Later...**_

Far from her home-tree and where Cujo probably was, Dawn eagerly sprinted through the jungle with gusto. She held aloft in hand, the broken tip of the spear, held as one would hold a small dagger.

The sun was full in the sky and the jungle basked in its infinite glow. Puddles shone with jewel-like glimmers and the dew speckled canopies glittered prettily in the sunlight. Dawn, herself, was enjoying the warm air and the scant feeling of mist upon her bare body. The refreshing feeling helped distract her from the stinging pain in her feet as she trotted on open wounds. Dirt and all manner of crumbling ground dug into her wounds and she winced every time she took a step.

This was not the first time she had ripped open her skin like this. Her feet and hands were always getting hurt somehow. However, the usual routine that followed after obtaining a wound was sitting in Cujo's lap and letting the hellhound lick the wound. The sting would diminish to a dull throb and infection was kept at bay by diligent care in the form of daily baths.

But Cujo was not here and Dawn didn't want him here no matter how much pain she was in.

Yet, no matter how many time she reminded herself of this, the urge to give up, sit down and start crying would rear its ugly head and she would have to stop and catch her breath, tempted to throw herself on the ground and let Cujo find her and drag her back home.

Something Dawn _would_ admit, is that the jungle hurt far more than the savannah ever did. The packed earth and sand of the savannah were gentle to her and the weeds were not always trying to trip her. There were fewer things to trip over, fewer branches to snag her hair and fewer dangers hidden in the dense mists. The sunlight was warm and scalding and while prolonged exposure often burnt her skin, it was more familiar and comfortable than this humid and wet environment she was stuck in now. What was once fun and full of adventure, was now turned sour and filled with aches and pains. Dawn could no longer deny she was miserable here. Even if there were more places to swim and more trees to climb, one thing was for sure— her skinny, soft-skinned little body couldn't handle it.

Plopping down on a fallen tree, Dawn began to cry.

Her cries were quiet and muffled as she brought her bony knees up to her chest and pushed her face into them. Her hands hurt, her feet hurt, her head hurt and to top it off, she was hungry. Cujo would have hunted her some breakfast had this had been an ordinary morning but it wasn't, and her tummy was empty and growling now.

How was she ever supposed to accomplish her mission now?

As if on cue, a tingling sensation tickled at the edge of her senses.

Looking up, she frowned as her eyes bounced from thing to thing, from tree to rock, from vine to trough.

Well, that took care of part three.

But where was it? Why could she never catch even a single glimpse of it?

Rubbing tears from her face and smearing faint smudges of blood across her cheeks, she pushed herself to her feet, grimacing as the pads of her feet burned anew. Stubbornly keeping herself from crying out loud, she forced herself to focus on the task at hand— _the fourth part of her mission._

Find Whatever-It-Was.

Because Whatever-It-Was was the reason she and Cujo had moved from the savannah to the jungle.

It had all started after she had obtained her spear.

The day she came back with it, Cujo had acted like a maniac. He had growled at her, prised the spear from her and herded her away from it, snarling and rumbling at her like she had done something wrong. Annoyed, Dawn had tried to reach her new weapon many times but Cujo had always blocked her and eventually herded her so far from it, she couldn't find her way back to it. After so many attempts to find it, Cujo had _bitten_ her.

He had never bitten her before.

After the initial shock wore off, she had sat down and cried for hours. Cujo had tried to make up for by licking her in the face and whining softly. He never bit her again after that.

However, never one to be deterred by _anything_ , Dawn had found her weapon again and Cujo grudgingly let her keep it. However, after that, he wouldn't let her go on any more hunts by herself. The hellhound shadowed everywhere she went and kept an eye out for _something_. He even moved them from their cozy watering hole, across the golden plains, and into the balmy jungle. It was frustrating and not just a tad bit suffocating to someone like Dawn who was used to exercising her freedom on a daily basis. While at first, the rainforest had garnered enough attention to sate her adventurous spirit, come present day, she was now was feeling both homesick and fed up with the challenges her human body couldn't overcome.

Eventually, she figured out who to blame for it all.

Whatever-It-Was had been around when spear had appeared, it had also been around during all those moments when Cujo became grumpy and overly protective and now it had followed them to the sprawling green jungle and Cujo was not happy about it. The hellhound was snappish, rough and always on high alert as if Whatever-It-Was was encroaching on his territory and making itself a threat. However, unlike the unruly saber-tooth tigers that Cujo only had to bellow at to scare off, the hellhound didn't seem to be able to handle this new competitor. While neither of them ever saw Whatever-It-Was, it was definitely around. Dawn would feel it at the edge of her senses, around somewhere, watching as always but seemingly never doing anything else. She and Cujo even found the remains of its infrequent hunts which erected a burning hatred in her usually placid guardian. Cujo hated Whatever-It-Was and Dawn wanted to find out why.

Whatever-It-Was was a mystery that she was going to solve, an enigma she was going to uncover so Cujo could bite its throat out and they could move back to the savannah. The rainforest was fun and all but it was time to go home... at least Dawn's humble opinion.

So she tried calling to it.

She mimicked the bay of a wounded antelope as she hid in the dense undergrowth. She then watched and waited for a sign. If Whatever-It-Was was a predator like Cujo, it would come to investigate the noise. She didn't think it was a plant-eater, Cujo was far too stoic to be flustered by some errant buffalo or lizard-beast.

Minutes skipped on by and nothing happened. The only rustles she heard were from birds and small reptiles that slithered across the ground. She heard the distant bird calls and croaking but no deep grunts or growls that a predator would make, at least the one's she knew of. Irritated, she called again, another long and warbling bay, trying to sound as weak and pathetic as possible as to better tempt Whatever-It-Was.

Nothing.

More time slipped by and she was beginning to think Cujo would show up before Whatever-It-Was did.

Eventually, something moved at the very edge of her peripheral vision.

Freezing, only her eyes flickered as they strained to catch any sight of the source. Only swaying leaves and vines caught her attention and she growled, frustrated already.

A deep baritone growl echoed her from above.

Dawn's head snapped up so fast she gave herself whiplash. Through the dizzyness, her eyes darted back and forth, searching for Whatever-It-Was. For a few seconds, her adrenaline lingered, hoping she would spot something but she never did. She fruitlessly searched and searched but nothing as prominent as this Whatever-It-Was showed up.

But she had heard it, right?

Right?

Confused, she was just about to try mimicry again when a hellhound barged into view, snarling and frothing at the mouth.

Startled, Dawn let out a frightened shriek and accidentally attracted the beast's attention. Scrambling away, she barely made it three feet before Cujo was upon her, knocking the wind out of her and pinning her flat to the ground. She wheezed underneath the giant hellhound for a few minutes, gasping and gurgling, dazed and upset.

Tears began to fall and she wailed, loud and stark against the sudden silence of the jungle.

Cujo eased off her but kept one paw on her chest to keep her still. She then felt anxious and reassuring licks from a large wet and warm tongue as Cujo lapped at her face, trying to tell her that everything was okay because he was here now. Next, her torn hands were lavished with careful attention and as much gentleness as a massive beast like Cujo could manage. Eventually, her cries tapered off into whimpers and she sniffed weakly, clutching at the tip of her spear.

Mission failed.

Again.

Deciding to take her bath somewhere _without_ Whatever-It-Was around to witness it, Cujo nudged her up and onto his back.

On the ride back home, Dawn fell asleep listening to the lullaby of the rainforest.


End file.
